


They’re All Hungrier Than The Damn Wolf

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [1]
Category: Arcadia (UK Band), Duran Duran, Duran Duran (Music Videos), The Power Station (Supergroup)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Backstage, Backstage antics, Band, Bedroom Antics, Bets & Wagers, Blindfolds, Blowjobs, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Dom/sub, First Time, Fivesome, Floor Sex, Fluff, Food Kink, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gangbang, Growing Up Together, Kissing, M/M, Makeup, Masturbation, Nerves, Pining, Restraints, Rimming, Role Playing, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Singing, Skype Sex, Slow Romance, Slow kisses, Song Lyrics, Table Sex, Teasing, Threesome, Tickle Fights, Voyeurism, beads, bites, coming home, dressing up, handjobs, roadhead, scratches, strip teases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 21,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: A series of short stories tailored for the 30 days OTP challenge: NSFW Version.A new chapter will (hopefully) be added each day throughout December and will be a different fic based off of a new prompt with a new pairing. These will range in terms of rating, extremity and in length!
Relationships: Andy Taylor/John Taylor (Duran Duran), John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran), Nick Rhodes/John Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/John Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/Nick Rhodes, Simon Le Bon/Nick Rhodes/Andy Taylor/John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075265
Comments: 256
Kudos: 44





	1. Touch My Body, Lets Move In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s his first time taking to the stage. They’re climbing the charts faster than what he can handle. He needs a familiar, heated touch to ground him.

**Prompt Day 1:** Naked Cuddles

 **Pairing:** John/Nick  
  


_1981_

  
Clammy hands gripped the dresser, the grime in the mirror and the dust that he swept away. He took in his sights: his half buttoned chiffon shirt hung out of his open trousers. He felt as though his ruby red scarf was choking him and he had ripped it from his neck.

Picking up his eyeliner pencil John bought it to his eyes, hand shaking and blinking rapidly.

“ _Shit_.” He rasped, messing up his line.

He fiddled for a wipe and hastily swabbed away the little eye makeup he had applied, swiping the light blush from his cheek.

“Goddamn it!”

John turned back to the mirror, hands jittering as he again bought the eyeliner pencil to his face. He eyed it, the little black devil before tossing it back atop of the dressing table.

“Where’s Nick when you bloody well need him?” He breathed as he flopped atop of the small sofa in the corner of his tiny dressing room. He winced as the dust flew up from under his seat. “ _Christ_!”

John let his mind wander to the forbidden place: all the crowds; the cheers turning laughter turning gasps and guffaws as his hands stalled; plucked wildly, all but dropping his bass on stage. The screech that would blast through all the speakers ringing through the auditorium. His voice cracking, forgetting his words: missing his queue; freezing on the spot.

His hands fumbled for a cigarette, clawing at his pockets and sighing when they came up empty. John ground his head into the dusty pillows, flopping deeper into the tattered leather.

He shut his eyes and took a few steadying breaths as a light knock on the door forced him to cock his head and raise a quizzical eyebrow.

“John, John! Open up, we have twenty minutes till showtime. Are you ready?”

John clung to his words, the voice rich with Brummie tones that cracked a little. He couldn’t help but break into a small smile.

Letting his scarlet hair cover the slight blackened mess that was his eyes, he traipsed to the door and unhinged the lock. He kept his eyes averted and his tongue lapped over his bottom lip: tasting of strawberry.

“John, you’re not even ready! Sometimes.. I, honestly _Nigel_!”

John took in the flustered look of his band mate. Swallowing his pride, he let stammered out his words.

“Will you.. help me?” It was a mere whisper. “Please, Nick.”

Nick immediately broke into a small, soft smile. It didn’t quite beat his teeth but it was the reassurance John needed in that moment.

Nick so graciously helped him. He evened out John’s foundation, deft hands rubbing it into his skin. John leant into his touch, the small circular ministrations were soothing; the worries of their first performance were beginning to bleed away. He followed Nick’s instruction, knowing when to open and close his eyes as Nick applied the colour. He added a fresh coat of lipstick, John’s mouth dropping open as he held his breath: the sway of the colour brushing across his lips proved hypnotic. John was caught in a trance.

John felt the sudden heat knocking him for six. A slender hand pried open the buttons of his ruffled shirt, the chiffon made him sweat: a cold sweat. Nick swiftly removed it to bare John’s chest. John felt his heart flutter and mouth water as that hand landed itself atop of his skin. Right above his heart which was beating faster than light. It was unlike anything he had ever known, he couldn’t solely blame the nerves for his rise in pulse. For his heightened arousal.

Pulling Nick’s smaller frame towards him, he helped shed Nick of his own ruffled shirt and let it flow to the floor. It landed atop of John’s.

John wrapped his long, lanky arms around Nick: encompassing him as he pressed his head into the junction of where Nick’s neck met shoulder. John was shivering, the small quake ran through both bodies. Nick sealed his arms around John’s neck as John’s drifted down to catch Nick’s waist.

There they stood, breaths intermingling and heartbeats synching, in the midst of the crummy and poorly lit dressing room. John’s overgrown fringe buried itself in Nick’s neck as Nick craned it, letting his delicate lips brush against John’s temple. They remained in a tight embrace, swaying to an imaginary beat.

Nick’s presence worked wonders for John’s pulse, the fears dissipating with every tender caress and loving reminder that he wasn’t alone out there. They were all in this together, the five of them.

It was the beginning of something incredible, both could feel it raging through their veins. John didn’t let Nick go, their naked chests flush up against the other as they breathed in tandem. He angled his head up, flicked the hair from his eyes and focused on the delectable ruby red lips mere inches from his own. John leant down, spine moulding beautifully into Nick’s and caught him. Caressed him, teased him, tongue demanding entrance.

The kiss was slow, radiating heat that neither man could deny. A fire that neither man could put out and, John was sure, neither would ever want too.


	2. I Bought My Time, Please Let Me Use It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a very important question for Simon. One that only his tender touch, his lips and sheer impulse can answer: rocking into the dead of night.

**Prompt Day 2:** Naked Kisses

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_Nice, South Of France: 1983_  
  


The steady rise and fall of a slick, lightly muscled chest made his eyes flutter open and lips part. He took a deep breath, curling all six feet and one inch of his lean frame into the firm body; legs intertwining.

John’s soft lips brushed a swift kiss atop of his clavicle and he felt light, elevated, as the body beside him shook itself from its slumber.

John bought his head up, gazing lovingly into those piercing blue eyes as they focused on his own. He shifted upwards to rest on a single arm. Their eyes met, lips drawing in closer, tongues interweaving and saliva being shared.

“Morning.” Simon chuckled. “What a lovely way to be awoken, Tigger.”

John felt Simon’s shiver and he revelled in the intense feeling. He settled his head back on Simon’s strong chest, brushing his blonde fringe from his face.

“Did that answer your question?” John chuckled into Simon’s neck as the words rolled off of the lyricist’s tongue, rhythmical and grounding all at once.

John kissed him again, long and slow, moulding his body into Simon’s: pressing him deeper into the mattress.

“Does that answer _your_ question?” John giggled, bangs falling into his eyes.

“Oh you cheeky sod. You got what you were after.” Simon cocked a leg up, wrapping it around John’s body as he blanketed Simon’s. “And now, Johnny, you’re after more.”

Sparks were lit all across John’s body, starting at his lower legs as a warmth pooled in his belly.

“Do you even remember what your question was, John?” Simon chuckled, the sound beautiful as it gained in intensity.

John pouted, feigning forgetting what he had so queried. Wanted. Hadn’t know he had so desired. What he had ignited was the passion between them that had been sparking for years and finally all those extra inches of flesh were caressed, traversed, admired and worshipped.

Swallowing his pride, John turned his head and stated in a whisper. He thrust it into Simon’s ear who shivered, laughter bubbling at the surface.

“Why-y-y-y-y Char-lie, Don’t you use it? Try-y-y-y not to bruise it. Buy-y-y-y-y time don’t lose it.”

John gracefully climbed up to meet Simon’s lips, his own watering as they caressed the stubble that coated the singers jaw.

“What does” His tongue lapped across Simon’s jaw line; “ _The Reflex_ mean? Your lyrics are so…you know, mystical, confusing and I, Charlie, I always learn better by… _doing_.”

John’s heart clenched at the smirk that settled across Simon’s face. The mischievous glint in his eyes, the raised blonde eyebrow. He gasped, hands stalling on their travels up his sides as Simon ground their hips together. John moaned as two firm hands grasped his buttocks and began to knead the skin, fingers caressing every inch.

“Do you need another example, Johnny? What it’s like to act on a mere im-pulse?”

John shivered.

“Sheer need.”

John whined.

“To act on animalistic urges. How long can you last Johnny, tell me: how much time can you buy?” Simon’s voice had dropped to a dangerously husky tone.

John was a shivering mess. His hips were rutting up against Simon, both erections brushing against each other maddeningly as he plunged deeper into his own insanity. His lips fell open, delicious moans graduated to grunts as a deft finger found his entrance.

The bassist was quaking, breath hitching as that torturous digit sank lower.

“ _Yes!”_ He hit the sibilant hard: sounding like a snake’s warning hiss.

Simon chuckled as John’s hips jolted. He fell forward with a small ‘oomph’ and John realised he could use it to his advantage. Craning his neck he moulded his plush lips into Simon’s own to let him swallow his moans and to share his every breath. To bleed life back into John that he, so hastily, sucked away.

“I’ll buy ngh… the” John broke away, lips caressing Simon’s cheek, “t-the time, please. P- _please_ let me, ugh… use it.”

He cocked his hips backwards, wriggling them side to side. He let himself be filled and splayed open, falling victim to the lust pooling between the two sweat slick bodies.

“I don’t know, Johnny. I’m on the danger line and you, you little bugger are fooling about with my chances.” John whined as Simon’s fingers teased his entrance and his lyrics teased him.

John groaned again, grinding on the cut ridges of Simon’s hips. With another desperate whine his shaky hand shot its way down to his aching member.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” John cursed as Simon’s deft hand had beaten him to his destination, “You can cross _that_ bridge when _I_ find it. Patience.”

“ _Fuck_ , ugh.” It came out breathy, strained. “You.. wanker.”

John clung to the raising tempo of Simon’s giggles. He was riding his fingers, trying desperately to set the pace.

“You’re in no place to be deciding if you should have that helping hand.”

Without thinking, John stammered out the infamous _oh woah._ His vocal, his help. He felt the sudden rise and fall of Simon’s chest below him, his laughter and the painful friction it had caused.

“S-Simon, _please_ I.. I can’t!” John roughly ground his hips into Simon’s own.

He was shaking, quaking, the sparks behind his eyes were blinding. John’s pretty mouth fell open as the warmth pooled on his stomach. The jolts of his hips were the tell tale sign he had reached his peak. He cried, a raw sound was ripped from his throat as his hips sprang back into action. John rutted against Simon, his own hand plummeting to try and grasp a hold of his leaking self: anything to drag out the last of his tiny death.

Panting harshly into the singers neck, John tried with might to steady his pulse. Simon’s fingers had been incredible, overwhelming, awakening something deep within him. He was riding the highs of sensation: a natural high that he knew would become an addiction, so violent.

“I found m-my, shit, my.” John struggled for breath, “treasure in the.. dark.”

“Precisely what _The_ _Reflex_ is about.” Simon adder after a beat.

John just about found the strength to raise his head, his confused complexion provoking a laugh from Simon beneath him.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, baby.”

John rolled a response around in his mouth and parted his lips. All thoughts were immediately washed away as he felt Simon claim his lips again. The singer’s hand trailed lower, raking over the bassist’s sweaty back in slow and torturous patterns. He sighed happily, content into the kiss and reluctantly broke away when the need for air overtook him.

Simon and his body language, his attention and dedication to holding him, pleasing him; told John everything he needed to know.

“Thank you Charlie. Thank you.” He whispered, bringing two slender hands to frame Simon’s face.

John lay his head back down atop of his strong chest and just let himself feel. They stayed like that for however long, silent and sombre, the bassist just listening to the singer’s heartbeat. John felt his own speed up, his pulse matching Simon’s own andante beat.


	3. The First Time, Way Back When

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick had the time to reminisce. All the _first _times. The important, significant times. The times that were making him the man, albeit only nineteen, he should be.__

**Prompt Day 3:** First Time

 **Pairing:** John/Nick

_1981_

Being on his first tour has given Nick the time he never thought he’d wanted. He sat, cramped at the back of their tiny tour bus alongside John, swaying from side to side as they sped down the M1.

He had the time to reminisce. All the _first times_. The important, significant times. The times that were making him the man, albeit only nineteen, he should be.

He turned to glance down at John, a soft fondness in his hazel eyes. John’s head rested on his shoulder, his chocolate brown eyes were slipping closed. Wrapping an arm around his lean frame, he felt John melt into the embrace.

  
***  
  


He had first met Nigel John Taylor aged only eleven. They both lived in Hollywood, the south of Birmingham only a couple streets apart. They quickly became attached at the hip, doing everything together. From shopping for satin, silk and chiffon to records and camping out for concert tickets.

The first time Nigel went to a concert was thanks to Nicholas. The exact band, time and date grew hazy in his mind as over the years they had been to so many shows and clubs to scream their throats raw. Far too many times. Not enough times.

Nick could never forget the first time Nigel got an autograph from his icons: the legendary _Roxy Music_ at the NEC, Birmingham. Nigel was practically creaming himself and Nick couldn’t hold back his joy.

  
***  
  


Nigel was fifteen the first time he had plucked up the courage to kiss Nicholas. They were laying atop of Nick’s bed and Nigel was beaming, having a new _Chic_ record booming through his bedroom. Nigel has asked Nick his thoughts and, as always, they were pretty much on the same page. He was overjoyed when Nick had graced him with a sparking smile that nearly reached his eyes. That night they had almost worn out Nick’s record player, the tracks kept blasting throughout the small room, echoing off of the purple walls.

Nick could still remember the strange change of pace. His mother, Sylvia, had a prized _Barry White_ collection and although he and Nigel much preferred the likes of _The Who_ and _The Clash,_ it had surprised him when Nigel began pawing through those records.

Nick could still vividly remember their first kiss. The soft, silken voice that accompanied them as their lips danced too _You’re The First, The Last, My Everything._ How their laughter had interwoven, how both timelines had ground to a halt as he locked eyes on Nigel’s own: widened through his thick frames. That night Nigel had tried a new lipstick shade, the pasty pink tasted cherry.

Whether it was in the haze of the moment or not, he still wasn’t sure, the first time Nigel had let slip the words ‘I love you’ had been on that fateful night. Nick wished he had known what to say back.

Lipstick cherry all over his lips and look at that: Nick hadn’t known how deep he was falling.

  
***  
  


A shy and timid Nigel had a clumsy hand on his crotch, delivering kisses across the column of his neck as he hastily yanked open Nick’s satin trousers. Their band Shock Treatment had finally found their singer, for the week, their voice had the Rum Runner alight.

Together they had both been riding the highs of performing. Performing after a long night on the door for Nigel and Nick himself had had an intense but rewarding DJ set before they finally took to the stage.

He hadn’t lasted long but neither had Nigel. Together their clumsy hips rutted up against each other, both sets of lips dropping moan after moan. Nigel had come first, biting deep into his jacketed sleeve to stifle his groan. Nick himself had followed moments later, choosing to bite at Nigel’s neck as he came and came.

  
***  
  


They had continued to fool around, hands would wander and lips would part. June 20th 1978 would forever be branded in his mind as one of the most notorious first of the first times.

Nigel turning eighteen, now a man, and there he lay above him; hips rocking and mouth devouring his neck. Their cocks brushed maddeningly before Nigel took both into his huge hands and jerked them, the pace growing faster than what Nick could handle. He was shivering, back arching as Nigel took him further. Deeper. Taking their bond and intimacy to a new level.

That night had been magical, he wouldn’t change it for the world. Or, for newly released _Girls On Film_ to reach the top ten. Of course it hadn’t ran too smoothly but Nick now knew: when did anyone have it easy the first time? It had been awkward, Nigel did stop and stutter and the worry in his voice hadn’t really left as he pushed himself inside.

Still, Nick’s eyes were rolling back into his head and his lower lip trembled. He wallowed in the intense sensation: nodding profusely as Nigel began to move. His thrusting lasted a mere three minutes and both boys were shivering all over, skin doused in sweat that had Nigel’s brown hair sticking to his forehead.

Nick had laughed himself hoarse when Nigel’s glasses had fallen off and he tried to pick them up, all balancing on one hand. It obviously hadn’t worked and Nick almost poked his eye out as Nigel’s thrusting had fallen out of rhythm as Nick returned the glasses to their rightful place.

Both were flushed, panting, overcome with intense emotion. Nigel had fallen atop of him and pulled out with a grunt. He spent the night, kissing Nick over and over, thanking him.  
  


***  
  


Filming for _Planet Earth_ was unlike anything he had ever known. The first song of the eighties, the first actual _eighties_ sounding song it had been called and that: just wow. Nick still struggles to comprehend the credibility the track had earned in a few short weeks.

Their night together after the third day of shooting was truly a night he would never forget. They had been together for years: kissing, touching, wanting. John had downed a couple of drinks and was slightly tipsy, laying against Nick as he guided him back to his bedroom. Nick deposited the heavy body onto his bed and turned on his heel for the door. A desperate whine and John had stopped him, drawing Nick back to bed by the sheer desperation in his voice.

It was the first time Nick was on top. It was the first time John asked to be restrained. He was teased, taunted, rocking his hips deeper into Nick: inner walls clutching at him; inching him closer and closer to an intense release.

Nick always lasted longer in John than John in him and he will continue to pride himself on that. That night hadn’t been slow and cautious, Nick had quickly found his strength and was content on drawing out the immense pleasure; hammering into John harder and faster. He hit that sweet spot every time and left John shaking, quivering, head lolling back into the pillows as his skin was painted white.

John had cried out, screaming Nick’s name from the top of his lungs and that was more than enough to have his own pulse surging. His hips buckled, slamming into him, milking Nick dry.

  
***  
  


They were approaching Nottingham so, another sixty miles or so until they were back on home soil. Nick closed his eyes, letting himself clutch tighter at John’s body. He felt him stir and under his eyelashes he watched John angle his head up and fix his tired gaze on Nick’s own.

“Hey, you okay?”

John nodded, brushing his striking red hair against Nick’s chin.

“Yeah, just thinkin’” His voice was bleary as he rubbed at his eyes.

“About what, John?”

John straightened up beside Nick. He turned his body towards him, letting his head rest in his palm.

“This tour. It’s the first of many, right? The _first_ of so many wonderful adventures together.” He smiled his statement Nigel smile, full of teeth to hide the insecurities that burned beneath the surface. “I can’t wait.”

It was as though John had read his mind. His mental rolodex as it delved deep into each memory, each milestone.

Nick was shaken from his thoughts as he felt two hot, wet lips press against his own. He leant into it, letting himself kiss back with the same force; tongue battling against John’s. John broke away giggling at the string of saliva that followed him.

Nick shivered, moulding himself into John’s outstretched arm. This time it was he who’s head rested against John’s chest, eyes slipping closed. He breathed in deep and steadied himself, listening to John’s heartbeat and matching the rises and falls of his lean chest with his own.


	4. You’re Dirty Sweet And You’re My Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can he say? He’s always had a thing for powerful basslines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title adapted from Power Station’s Cover of _Get It On _but you probably already got that. 😉__

**Prompt Day 4:** Masturbation

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_July 1985_

**_Well you're dirty and sweet,_ **

**_Clad in black,_ **

**_Don't look back,_ **

**_And I love you._ **

Simon clambered into his bed, Walkman blasting as loud as he could take it.

**_You’re dirty and sweet, oh yeah._ **

He had been rocking out all night, head banging and eyes shut tight: dancing around his apartment with no shame.

At some point he had lost his shirt. He didn’t remember when.

Usually rock wasn’t his thing, he preferred more synth based tracks that had some real meaning (other than girl induced rages) behind it. Something to get his brain working, trying to decipher the puzzling lyrics. Each hearing would unveil a new sound but this. This was _John_. This mattered.

**_Well you're slim and you're weak,_ **

**_You got the teeth of the hydra upon you._ **

“You’re dirty sweet and you’re my girl!” He chimed in, half screaming as he shimmied out of his silk trousers.

He ran a hand through his jay black hair, head bobbing to the track.

He was enrapt, caught you in the pulsing bass line. That was what mattered the most to Simon. It was powerful, distinctive and he felt every beat. It was almost as though Simon could mark it out, knowing precisely where John’s fingers would hit, how his fingers would clench and wrap around his beloved four strings.

Who was he kidding? He knew exactly.

**_Get it on,_ **

**_Bang a gong,_ **

**_Get it on._ **

****

Simon was drumming away, fingers hitting the pulsing beat atop of his now exposed thigh.

He shut his eyes and imagined the show. He could vividly picture the joy on the bassist’s face, his deft fingers plucking with such lust in his eyes, head nodding along to the beat.

John would act so cool about it, doing a little jig as he swayed in time. Side to side, he could never keep still. Neither could Simon.

**_Get it on,_ **

**_Bang a gong,_ **

**_Get it on._ **

****

He couldn’t help himself. His drumming digits were finding a new tempo, hitting the beats further down his thigh. They trailed dangerously lower, banging at a more insistent rhythm.

**_Well you're built like a car,_ **

**_You got a hubcap diamond star halo._ **

****

“What’s she built like, Johnny?” He rasped, fingers having found their destination.

**_You’re built like a truck, oh my._ **

Simon found himself quickly matching the increasing tempo as the song began to pick up: inching closer and closer to Simon’s favourite part; that delectable instrumental featuring that delectable bass-line.

“You’re dirty sweet and you’re my girl.” He stammered out, breath hitching.

Simon’s chest was covered in sweat, his head lolling back into the pillows. He bit into his plush bottom lip as his hands moved faster, tuggin harder, already threatening himself to come undone.

**_Get it on,_ **

**_Bang a gong,_ **

**_Get it on._ **

By this point he was in a frenzy, tugging at himself with no finesse. The pounding bass-line was amplified to a dangerous degree as he whited out; seeing spots and flashing neon behind his eyes. He let out a full body shudder as the pulsing notes thrummed through every tingling inch of skin.

**_Get it on,_ **

**_Bang a gong,_ **

**_Get it on._ **

Sinking deeper into the mattress, Simon couldn’t help but smile. His grin was huge, the happiness radiating off of him brighter than the damn hub cap, diamond star halo. He chuckled, clutching at his chest as it shook. He had barely caught his breath.

**_Get it on,_ **

**_Bang a gong,_ **

**_Get it on!_ **

He loved that part with both Taylors backing vocals hitting hard. The aftershocks had turned quakes and were manageable but goddamn John, his nimble fingers… they could sure as hell get to him.

  
_**Get it on,** _

_**Bang a gong,** _

_**Get it on!** _

They’d be getting it on again together, in no time: Simon was sure of that.


	5. Swirl Me That Tongue, Baby!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had told him no but that glint, that goddamn glint in those huge brown eyes, that had him caving him: forcing him to his knees and prying open all leather restraints.

**Prompt Day 5:** Blowjob

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_1983_

_Backstage, Sing Blue Silver Tour._

  
He had told him no but that glint, that goddamn glint in those huge brown eyes, that had him caving him: forcing him to his knees and prying open all leather restraints.

“J-Johnny! Fuck… shit, _don’t_ … don’t stop.”

Glancing down, Simon took in the shit eating grin. He rolled his eyes and moaned again, feeling the hot pad of John’s tongue lap at him.

Those eyes were huge as John rode out his high: tongue sloppy and saliva spewing out the sides of his mouth. Simon tried to decide just how much John had had to drink, just how many lines had been cut but shit: he was on his knees and that pretty overbite was stretched wide. Simon couldn’t think straight. Pun completely intended.

John picked up his pace, tongue swirling maddeningly. He stopped for a breath and Simon took one too, before a full body shudder overtook him: the bassist now using those skilled fingers on him.

They ran up the inside of his thighs, light and teasing, they caressed the grooves of his hips, the pressure causing Simon to rock them forward. Then, the bastard, ran two fingers over his balls: grabbing them; tugging at them with little restraint.

“Shit! John.. you little.”

John pulled away, grabbing his jaw. He angled Simon’s head down to meet him and shove his tongue straight down Simon’s throat. He whined in surprise before groaning in lust; the sound being recklessly torn from him.

  
“ _Bugger_!” Simon wheezed.

Simon felt John break away, he could feel the sly grin that formed as soon as their lips parted: a string of saliva forming between them.

“Mmm, Si, you taste _so,_ ugh _,_ good.” John waggled his eyebrows and Simon wasn’t sure which end of his body he was referring too. 

He didn’t have the time to dwell upon it, John was back on his knees and had enclosed his hot mouth back around him.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

John broke away.

“Oh, Charlie, we will.” The little shit winked at him.  
  


Granted it was hesitant and a little laboured, the drugs seeming to clog John’s mind. He settled back between Simon’s legs. Only the whisper of a zip being yanked down then the scream of peeling vinyl told Simon that John was freeing himself, taking himself into his hand and building his rhythm on both ends.

His tongue sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks and Simon could see it: could see himself brushing against the skin. John had a clumsy hand on himself, jacking at a clumsy pace. His head bobbed faster, tongue circling. John lapped at the head before getting deep into the slit.

Simon groaned, juices trickling our John’s pretty mouth, hips now rocking forward in time with John’s tongue. He was close, cursing inwardly and trembling.

“God John. I won’t..” He engulfed a shaky breath, “ _can’t_ … last.. shit.”

It was as though John has read his mind. He swapped his lips for his hand in a tenth of a second, little drugged up brain swirling as he tried to tug at the both of them in time.

“S- _shit_ , Charlie.. is that, fuck, is that _good_?” He panted feeling Simon quake above him. “Tell me.”

Simon’s scream was enough of an answer. He bucked into John’s grip as the bassist milked him dry. Within moments John’s screech pierced the air and together they came and came, shivering as Simon’s sweat slick back arched and John’s lanky body convulsed.

Simon collapsed forward: John, the stork, barely able to support his weight. Together they came down, panting and chests heaving, giggling and grinning like the overstimulated idiots they were. Always were.

Together they dropped to the floor, a heap of loose limbs. Simon extended his arm to let John bury his head in his shoulder.

“Yes, John. You were great.”

“Huh?”

Simon couldn’t suppress his smile, of course John had forgotten. Granted a lot had happened in the last two minutes.

“You took care of me damn well, you sissy!”

The realisation slowly dawned on John’s face.

“ _Wanker_.” He muttered, smirking.

“Not tonight, I’m not!”

Both men laughed in unison, Simon shivering as he felt John’s wet lips press against his throat whilst doing so.

Wordlessly, he yanked John’s heavy body forward, letting him settle into his lap. Straddling Simon, John tipped his head down and pressed their lips together in a closed, slow kiss. Their uncovered cocks ground against eachother maddeningly, already beginning to revive themselves: they were still left breathless.


	6. The Way Our Hips Dance As One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lips danced a slow kiss, a promise. Their hips danced the waltz, grinding perfectly in time as their breaths quickened and sparks were lit between them.

**Prompt Day 6:** Clothed Getting Off

 **Pairing:** John/Roger  
  


_Antigua, 1982_

Their lips danced a slow kiss, a promise as John crawled atop of him. He angled his head down, moulding his lips into Roger’s, coaxing the drummer to arch his spine and brush against John’s chest.

The drummer’s deft fingers opened the satin buttons of John’s shirt, peeling the fabric from his body and unveiling the sweat slick skin underneath. John helped to strip him of his own shirt, fingers wandering over the grooves of Roger’s damp chest. John ground his hips downwards coaxing Roger’s up and together they waltzed: rocking back and forth; up and down; harder and harder.

John splayed his lanky body out, blanketing Roger as he buried his lips in the drummer’s neck. Their hips collided, tangoed, thrusting maddeningly. The drummer was panting, the sound delectable in John’s ear as the bassist shoved the name of it into Roger’s ear.

John was rocking deeper, harder, hips grinding in perfect sync with Roger beneath him. They were kissing again, tongues interweaving, hands trailing sweaty skin, hands tugging at hair. Angling Roger’s head up, John made him chase him: his pretty lips nibbling at his cheeks as he pulled away, laughing against Roger.

The drummer groaned, shivers sending jolts through him that the bassist could feel, his own body perking up at the electricity surging between them. John fell back into stride, falling deeper, hips thrusting wild and fast: now dancing the rumba. Cocking a leg, he splayed himself out, the leather rutting noisily between them.

John was panting erratically, breath hot, sizzling across Roger’s exposed collar bones. Burying his head in his shoulder, John moaned: the sound raw, being ripped from his throat. Roger cocked his hips up, the two rocking in the perfect rhythm building to crescendo.

Trembling, quaking, hips jerked and limbs flailed. John was groaning, deep and guttural: the white behind his eyes was blinding and all he could hear was the crashing of cymbals. He thrusted, pointless, anything to try and draw out his waves of nauseating pleasure.

Roger felt his heat and was just a moment behind. He slammed their hips together, thrusting upwards into John’s mess; the leather chafing them both and the pleasure intensified within the constraints of fabric. Roger screamed, right into John’s ear as together they crumbled: pulses wild and chests heaving. Neither man could stifle the little moans and shaky breaths as they dropped, intermingling to form a whole new rhythm. A whole new melody, a quickstep, all of their own.

John’s arms gave out and Roger, with a huff, took his weight as the bassist collapsed onto him. Smile burning bright, John chuckled into his neck and Roger’s own laughter filled the room. Their pants began to lessen, their chests sticking together.

Turning John’s head and brushing his bangs free from his face, Roger claimed his lips in his own again: sharing saliva and every last breath. The bassist slowly broke away, smiling into the kiss, into Roger’s now closed lips. Their noses brushed, their foreheads touched; lighting sparks. Roger stole a final kiss as he felt John’s pulse settle.

They found the perfect angle and John rolled off to his side. Cocking a leg up, the leather brushing together, he rested against Roger.

They fell asleep just like that: Roger with a deft hand running through John’s brunette locks and John’s leg encompassing his cut hips. Both content with their waltz, their tango.


	7. I Pull My Shirt Off... Should You Be Praying?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has no idea how he managed it but there Simon stood, trapped in his silk shirt and grinning.

**Prompt Day 7:** Dressed/Naked (half dressed)

 **Pairing:** Simon/Nick

_Election Day Set, 1985_

“Come on, Charlie! They’re waiting and you’re wasting film!”

Simon took a deep breath, swallowing his pride and let a huge grin plaster his face.

Trudging to the dressing room door, he greeted Nick with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Good evening, Nicholas.”

“Bloody hell!” Nick exclaimed, trying to bite back his chuckles, “What happened in here?”

Nick’s eyes had widened in horror before narrowing in bemusement. His hazel gaze roamed all over Simon: his messy black hair, half open trousers and the idiot.

“How have you managed to get yourself trapped in that thing?!” Nick exclaimed, black nails pointing to the state that was Simon’s chest.

“It’s these freaking uh, capes? Can I call them capes? I feel about ready to take off!”

Simon tried to flap his arms, illustrating his point. Laughing, he knew he wasn’t getting very far.

His shirt was tangled, back to front, inside out… God knows what. There were too many pieces of excess fabric, too many twists and turns that somehow the singer was half submerged in black silk.

It was a fashion crime, Nick had to tear his eyes away from the murder scene.

“What am I ever going to do with you, Charlie?” He chuckled, eyes landing on Simon’s reflection in the mirror behind him.

Simon was grinning, a dark eyebrow raised.

“You could get me out of this, maybe? If you would be so gracious.” Simon was laughing through his words.

Nick rolled his eyes and felt his way back over to Simon, trying to avoid the hell of a tangle of the clothing before him.

Using his sense of touch, Nick bound his eyes tight and felt about Simon’s stomach, his lightly muscles arms. His deft fingers wove in and out of button holes, unraveling the fabric. Simon was humming, low and it took Nick a while to recognise it.

“Yeah, yeah, _Hungry Like The Wolf_ : how clever of you.” Nick retorted as Simon grinned again.

Simon was now rocking with him, cocking his hips and chest following Nick’s movements. He leant into those light touches, making little moans so Nick had to laugh.

“Pervert.” Nick muttered under his breath, knowing full well Simon agreed with him.

It took a few minutes of Simon twirling, rocking back and forth and falling in and out of line under Nick’s hand. Simon had little clue how Nick was getting him out of his mess and staying so calm about it.

There was a slight blush settling on Nick’s cheeks. Simon knew full well that he would blame the pressure, the time they were wasting here and all sorts of other technical stuff that was all a load of rubbish.

Nick couldn’t deny the effects of the proximity, the laughter, the rise and fall of Simon’s chest under his tender touch had on him. No matter how stoic he played it.

Minutes later and Simon shook himself free, the last of the silk having been pried from his body. He stood centre, bare chested and triumphant, smirking at Nick. Nick kept his eyes on Simon’s own, the heavy eyeliner making it hard for Simon to tell just how hard Nick was fighting with himself to look down.

Rolling his baby blue eyes, Simon’s arms shot forward to encompass Nick’s tiny hands.

“Just get over here.”

He settled Nick’s hands across his pecs and smirked again, Nick was kneading the skin there with no encouragement whatsoever.

Stepping closer, Simon let slip a moan as more of Nick’s skin came into contact with his. The touches were light, teasing, just how Simon wanted.

Simon was always a fan of keeping up morale and besides, he really needed to thank Nick for the shirt fiasco. He figured so, leaning over and looming into Nick’s space.

He set two huge hands around Nick’s tiny waist, drawing him in closer. Letting his head fall forward, Nick’s jet black hair brushing Simon’s chin. His hands still caressed Simon’s chest, trailing down the front. He shivered slightly, moaned audibly to draw Nick in deeper.

Flashing him that dreamboat, shit eating grin, Simon focused all the attention back onto Nick: swiftly removing his own silk shirt.

Maybe they had to be behind the camera in ten, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have more fun in five. They didn’t need shirts to have fun. Or trousers, for that matter.


	8. Big Thing: Banged On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon loves to turn it on and we all know he’s not the only one.

**Prompt Day 8:** Skype Sex

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_Los Angeles, California 2000_

“I’m close Charlie, I can’t… I won’t… _shit!_ ”

“That’s it, that’s it, come on. Keep going, listen to my voice, ride it. Use my breath to steady yours. Touch yourself, all over. Run those sweet fingers all over, faster. You can go faster.”

“Fuck! You think I.. shit, I can.. p- _pace_ uh myself, Le Bon? You really think.. ngh, that!”

“I know you can’t, you impatient git.”

“Impatient, fuck I need too.. need it now! Shit, Charlie.. not much longer.. keep, ngh, _talkin’_ too me! Lemme get off on that voice.”

“That’s it, go faster baby. Touch yourself, pick up your speed.”

“Fuck-ing hell!”

“Use both hands, angle the camera down so I can see everything.”

“Is that.. that b-better? Charlie, can you see me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, baby, that’s _exactly_ what I want to see. You’re doing great, keep it up.”

“I can’t!”

“C’mon Johnny, use both hands!”

“Shit, I- I.. _FUCK,_ Simon!”

“Get it up, get it out, get it in time!”

“Fuck, Si.. Simon!”

“Hang it up, hanging out, hanging on a big thing!”

“I’m banging on.. your.. shit, ah, your..”

“Yeah, there’s a good boy Johnny.”

“I’m movin’.. move up, fuck, the line!”

“Bang it up, bang it out, _Johnny’s_ banging on _my_ big thing!”

“Sweet mother… f- fuck, _CHAR-ugh!”_

“That’s it, that’s it. _Spill it_ Johnny, spill it all. Rub your balls, keep it going. Spill it all in your lap, you dirty little shit.”

“Si.. Simon.”

“Gimme the friction.”

“And w-watch _me_ , me make it! Ah watch me, Charlie!”

“I’m right here baby, I’m right here. You look so beautiful baby, c’mon just a little more, gimme a little more… that’s it, _that’s_ it.”

“Fucking… Christ.”

“Beat it up, beat it in time!”

“I… I tried too.. you motherfucker!”

“You look so good, all sticky, baby.”

“Simon, h-how, how do you do.. _that_ to me, luv? Through the fuckin’.. _laptop?”_

“I don’t know? Just seeing you, that dick... does that too me. It’s been far too long.”

“Ugh, I know. I’m so sorry.. shit. What were we discussing again?”

“You banging on my _Big Thing_?”

“That too. What was the other thing?”

“The _reunion_ you want, John. All five of us, as though it’s 1981 all over again.”

“Oh right, yeah. That. Apologies.. my brain.. mush, just mush.”

“I don’t blame you. That orgasm looked intense!”

“Too fuckin’ intense.. Christ, you could’ve bloody killed me. There’d be no reunion.”

“If I’m _that_ freaking good five thousand miles away, imagine how mind blowing I’ll be five inches away!”

“Don’t talk about inches! You cocky shit.”

“It’s _way_ more than five, you wanker!”

“Got that right, luv. Now... get it up, get it in time. Charlie, it’s your turn.”


	9. Wild Boys Should Fuck This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John may be the one bound, grinding, head slamming against the Volvo in the video but that didn’t stop him exploiting his biggest of vices: Nick. That didn’t mean Nick’s name had to come up on his torture video, though.

**Prompt Day 9:** Wall Sex

 **  
Pairing:** John/Nick

  
Two soft hands gripped him, clawing at the metal; clutching tight to the slippery surface. Hooking both legs around his chain mail clad own, he settled his knee at one side to steady himself, not just so he could yank those legs higher and thrust in deeper.

John was bound tight, lanky arms spread and bucking against the top of the car. His metal chest plate screeched atop of the Volvo, as he arched his back and slammed himself back down into it. His head was thrown back, eyes screwed tight and mouth agape: curses, moans, threats for Nick to move faster; to penetrate him deeper rolling off of his tongue.

Nick had to hook his hands around John’s arms, sliding past the restraints to stop himself from sliding further down. He battled with the angle, his eyes blinded by lust and brain clogging his better judgement as he took John deeper; faster, pounding his hips into the sleek car roof.

He was close, they both were. The sight of John being strung up for hours throughout the shoot were unbearable, too stimulating, proving ruthless on Nick’s own wandering mind. Within moments of the director calling cut, John had dismounted. It went without saying that he’d be bound again within moments, as soon as Nick was finished parading about his cage.

But that was then, this: the buckle of their hips even wilder than the wildest of rhythms, tongue desperately sucking at necks, running tender hands over metal-clad flesh. John’s stupid red sash was no longer so stupid: another thing to wrap around John’s neck and expose that delectable, long throat.

Nick was panting, hazel eyes blown wide as he tried to focus back on John. John, who was now looking at him. Nick could read that look, knowing full well that he was trying his hardest to hold his gaze, demanding he be privy to both Nick’s and his own tiny death. John slammed his head back atop of the car as Nick changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot.

He ground his head again, as though the blaring synths accompanied it. Over and over, Nick fucking every last sensical thought out of his head.

John was flushed, mussed, desperate to impale himself deeper; take himself further. Nick’s hips were driving him from reason, he was ruthless, dangerous: hands clawing at his skin, nails raking across his palms.

Together they groaned, hips colliding, Nick buried all the way inside. John just lay there, helpless, bottom lip trembling and pulse surging at the wild ministrations. Within moments Nick was moving again, as fast as he could, chains clinking and leather creaking: hammering into John with no restraint.

Within moments he was coming, eyes screwed shut and head banging atop of the Volvo. His back arched and pulse roared, taking all Nick gave him, screaming in relief. John whited out, blinking black and red beneath his eyes. He was moaning again, wild, as he felt Nick convulse atop him. He felt the beads of sweat drop from his dirty blonde hair, that pretty mouth spewing pure filth as Nick let go. He filled John over and over, yanking his legs up even higher and burying his face in John’s neck.

Nick cursed, violently, before dropping John’s legs from around his hips and letting John take his weight. Nick fell atop him, panting and flushed, metal plates clanking as he hit him. John couldn’t feel anything, he was numb: ears ringing and mouth agape.

Together they tried to steady their pulses but to no avail. The sight, the feel of John trussed up so was too powerful, how could Nick move away? There they lay, chests heaving, John’s hips perfectly in line with Nick’s. He basked in the closeness, the body heat and juices staining between them.

Nick raised his head at the hand that beckoned him, crawling up John’s sinew body to kiss him. To share saliva and continue battling for dominance.

John may be the one bound, grinding, head slamming against the Volvo in the video but that didn’t stop him exploiting his biggest of vices: Nick. That didn’t mean Nick’s name had to come up on his torture video, though. He’d be living out that torture, falling deeper and deeper victim to those insane hazel eyes and those lusty pink lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly wall sex but I say it still fits. That and, this fic needs to exist (along with every member of the band getting off during this shoot- theres just so much homoerotic potential)


	10. Caught (On My Knees) In The Crossfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s caught in a trance. The boys all know exactly where his head is at.

**Prompt Day 10:** Doggy Style

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_1983_

_Nice, South Of France_

“John? Hey, hey Johnny!”

John cocked his head up, shaking himself from his daze.

“You’ve been staring out to space for the last ten minutes. You look as though you’ve just dropped twenty IQ points. What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing.” He dismissed Nick with a wave of his hand.

Nick squinted, regarding him in a accusatory manor. The keyboardist turned, facing back into the circle of flustered band mates.

“…. John… need to know… if the… is ready.”

“John! Have you… completed the… for… _And Passion_?”

“Johnny!” Simon’s voice boomed, John quirked his head up to meet him: those beady blue eyes were wide and taunting. “Earth to Mr J Taylor?”

“Are we alive ova there?” He heard Andy quip.

John couldn’t stop his wondering thoughts. Where he (and Simon) has been last night. Wrapped up in those sheets, throwing them on the floor, wrestling atop of the bed… his knees hurt.

A good thirty seconds later came the muffled “Guess so.”

“John, what is it?” He could hear Roger state, who leant a supportive hand atop of John’s shoulder.

“Nothing; honestly. Let’s just.. get back too… you know, the, the uh—“

“ _The Reflex_.”

“The what, Ands?”

All four men rolled their eyes. John had to laugh at that, seemingly having read each-others minds.

Simon, on the other hand, was staring at him. He was… was he smirking? He was surely smirking, lips inching upwards into a crooked smile.

“Care to tell us what’s on your mind, Johnny?” Simon posed, leaning forward and looming into John’s space.

John fumbled with his words, hands dropping to his lap as he arranged his silk scarf over it. His eyes darted about the room, anything to avoid those piercing blue eyes or those parted lips.

“John, Johnny? I think we would all like to know just what’s messing with that pretty little head of yours.” Simon, voice light, was crawling over to him.

“This time.” Somehow on the same page, Nick and Andy barked in unison.

Roger and Simon laughed.

John, however, was shrinking back: desperate to keep his distance.

“Johnny, we haven’t got all day!” It aired in a sing-songy tone. “ _The Reflex_ won’t write itself!”

The voices kept barking at him, huge smirks and accusing eyes in place. John felt boxed in, tripping on his words. The silences were only leaving room for the guys to conjure up more stories, narrating his life for him.

Fingers touching in the dark, a tongue running up his back. His hips pushed up, those fingers inside him…

“He has that look again.”

“What look, Nick?” Simon prompted, knowing full well what Nick had meant.

“It’s one of three.” Nick began, eyeing John the entire time. “It’s either A) He’s blinded by the vodka. B) He saw some bird who he can’t forget. Or C) Last night’s endeavour with some whore.”

“Some.. whore, huh John?” Simon raised his eyebrows, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Uh, precisely.. yeah. You nailed it, Nick.” John ground out, eyes averted.

“Did you take her on all fours?”

John looked up.

“Did you finger her open?”

John’s eyebrows raised.

“Did you come all inside her?”

John’s mouth dropped open.

“Poor thing, Simon. That poor, abused and probably crab riddled thing.” Andy joked, placing a hand on Simon’s shoulders as he laughed.

“Or, did somebody come inside.. you?!” Simon pretty much screamed.

John was speechless, mouth working fast and only a few shaky breaths were audible.

He upped, swiftly, whipping straight past Simon so the tail end of his jacket whacked him in the face as he sauntered past. He ignored the giggles, hollers and demands for John to come back and explain himself.

At the door he whirled back around giving a gracious middle finger and the words “You know it” before strutting out of the studio. Enough said.


	11. There’s No Stopping Them, Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John would never want to let him down again. Why would he ever want to stop; naked and bested, lovingly strapped down and holding that intense gaze?

**Prompt Day 11:** Dom/sub

 **Pairing:** John/Nick

_Birmingham, 2004_

There was nothing John could do to refuse him. He would let him run those slender fingers up his spine, round his stomach and straight up his neck; coaxing John to follow.

There was nothing John could do to stop him. He would hiss at the touches, wince at the sounds of the metal that clinked closed; coaxing John to writhe in his bonds.

There was nothing John could do to hold himself. His limbs would remain up by his head, open and unguarded, neglected by the man before him; coaxing John to groan in frustration.

There was nothing John would do to stop himself. That wasn’t up to him, it never was and why did it need to be? He knew their bond ran deep, they were brothers and would forever regard each other as so. John was in the best of care, strung up and inching closer to sweet release; the love between burning so bright that it still blinded him through the thick noir cloth that shielded his eyes. Why would he stop now? Why would he ask to stop and be left in such a way?

  
John would ask, beg and scream it from the rooftops if that’s what he wanted. John was delirious with pleasure, the notion of what was to eventually come and mind fogging over with pure want of right here, right now.

Nick was that kind of Dom: he’d please his boy, thank him and parade him: ensuring he felt the appreciated, desired, respected by the master he lived to serve.

There was nothing John would refuse Nick. Not when they were teenagers playing with handcuffs and canes. Not now in their forties with whips and suspenders that dangled from the ceiling.

There was nothing John would do to stop him. Nick meant far too much to him, he would never want to let him down again. Why would he ever want to stop, now?


	12. It’s All In His Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This tickle fight wouldn’t end well for John, not that he was complaining.

**Prompt Day 12:** Fingering

 **Pairing:** John/Roger

_Reunion Tour, Birmingham 2001_

  
The tickle fight was bordering on violent, John was laughing so hard that he had given himself the hiccups. He raised both hands in surrender, giving into the the flush of Roger’s cheeks and glimmer of his dark eyes.

They had been rolling around for what felt like hours, not that they hadn’t enjoyed their time. The sheets had been ripped, tossed and tangled around them: their limbs dancing, rutting against them mercilessly.

Roger had managed to pin him, which led to John’s head lolling back into the rumpled pillows, blonde hair skewed and dropping into his eyes.

“What are you gonna _do_ with me?” He chuckled, feigned his fear.

Roger leant down, looking into his space. He regarded John, grinning slightly at the erratic rises and falls of his bare chest: the little red spots where his skin was beginning to flush. He truly was gorgeous, be it doused in sweat droplets or not, aged twenty one or now at forty one; lying back and taking in every inch of Roger’s body on show.

“Let me think about it.” Roger mused, cocking his head.

His eyes never left John’s panting form as his fingers traipsed lower, gaining in speed. He was tickling John again, who laughed and bucked into his touch. Maybe he was trying to buck Roger off but he didn’t exactly have the upper hand in that moment; not that he didn’t want that hot little sun kissed body draping atop his own.

John laughed, kicked and rocked the bed. Wherever the drummer’s torturous touch went, John’s body would follow. His skin was lit aflame under Roger’s ministrations; his ticklish fingers quickly proving too much for him as again he hiccuped before throwing his head back in defeat.

“Rog.. shit, Rog! Please, please stop! I don’t know how much more I can- _ah_!”

John had to cut himself off, his groan was ripped from his throat. He had been laughing so hard, screwing his eyes shut so tight that he couldn’t properly register where Roger’s fingers were: how fast they were teasing; how hot his skin was atop of John’s own.

“I _can’t_ take it like, l-like I could... back then!”

Roger’s hands had manoeuvred themselves down south, fingers prying and spreading. John leant into it; bottom lip trembling as he tried to steady his pulse. He had to let Roger in, he wanted nothing more but to clench the hot ring of muscle around those powerful fingers.

He wanted Roger inside him and, goddamnit, that wouldn’t be so hard if he could stop his giggling!

He was laughing with mirth, hips bucking, as he could hear Roger talking to him again. His voice was so soothing, dropping little threats and curses.

“Christ Johnny, you’re tight!”

“Too fuckin’.. shit, _tight_!” He barked back, eventually. “Fuck, Rog! You’re gonna, gonna… _kill_ me!”

“Stop freaking _laughing_ then and take it!” Roger and his adorable laughter was doing nothing to help John stifle his own.

He tried, John really did, but the deeper Roger went the more he found himself chuckling then moaning, hips twisting up and buckling into his heat. Roger’s hands were everywhere, opening him up and spreading him wide.

“Motherfucker, Froggy.. how? How do you.. shit.”

“Do _that_ , John?”

John nodded profusely, he couldn’t say anymore.

He took in Roger’s sly grin as it inched across his luscious lips. “I’m a _drummer_ , you moron. We have talented hands.”

John was barking out his laughter again, throwing his head back as he did so.

“Y-yeah well, Frog- _gy_ , Ah, I’m a.. a freaking, fuck, _bassist_ and my hands can’t.. they don’t, uh, _do_ that.” He rasped. “D-down there.”

Roger just rolled his eyes. “Works better when somebody else does it to you, Johnny.”

“Yeah, that too. Shit, I’m so close Rog!”

Roger grinned, the sexy little grin that only unveiled itself in sexy little times like this: with John. Only with John.

Roger picked up his pace, feeling the clenching of John’s inner walls increasing: the pace driving them

both wild. With his free hand, Roger clasped at John: yanking him in time with his prying his fingers.

“Sweet Lord, Christ.. _Roger_!”

Roger’s digits egged him on, twisting and turning, inching further inside. John was groaning, spewing curses and threats for Roger to move faster, to finger him quicker and deeper.

It didn’t take him long as he was spilling onto Roger’s fingers which just gripped him harder and tugged him through it. By now his laughter had graduated to groans and cries, the beating of his heart was pounding in his ears, blood thrumming in his veins so fast that he was ever so close to whiting our completely. Roger’s strokes began to lessen as John’s body curled into his touch, jolting before he fell back into the mattress with a thud.

“Shit.. that, that was.. _Christ_.” John panted, thinking for a moment about where to look.

Roger still looked over him: his hair was skewed and a faint sheen of sweat was covering his chest. He snaked a hand up to grab him, to tug him down into a breathless kiss. Roger melted into his touch, lips moulding together as he swallowed every breath John could muster.

Feeling his need for air heighten, John reluctantly broke away and chuckled as Roger rolled off to his side. He sighed lowly at the feeling of those beautiful fingers caressing his sides, helping John to roll over. He didn’t say it right then and there but it sure was a nice change to be the little spoon: all six feet, one inch of him being enveloped by Roger’s smaller, supportive frame.

John was groaning wild again in moments, having pressed himself back: now flush up against Roger.

“Think you can take _more_ than just fingers now, do you John?” John could hear his special little smirk perfectly crafted for their special little times together like this.

John rested his head in his hand and cast his gaze back over his shoulder.

“Bring it, if _you_ can last long enough, Frog!” He barked, trying to hide his snigger.

Roger didn’t need to be told twice.

(The joke was on John though, it was much harder to win their tickle fights when he couldn’t withstand the weight on his backside. Not that he was complaining.)


	13. Solid Gold, Oh My God What’s This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John thought that tongue was wild enough, never mind what came next!

**Prompt Day 13:** Rimming

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_1981_

_On the road, Hazel O Connor Tour_

“F-fuck! That it.. that’s the freakin’, ah, weirdest t- _thing_ Charlie! Does it? Do I even, ngh, taste.. good?” John ground out, eventually.

He heard an appreciative sound echo from Simon behind him and the thrum of it was wild, even painful, causing John to rock forward. He twisted his clammy hands in the worn in plush of the backseat, trying not to collapse into a panting and moaning mess atop it so soon.

Simon’s tongue, the traitorous and oh so talented thing, was swirling madly. He miraculously knew when to poke and prod, when to draw back and when to try and thrust in again: as John groaned and bucked his hips back; screwing himself on the flailing muscle.

“Christ, Charlie!” He screamed, angling his hips higher, presenting himself. “H-how.. fuck! How do you.. fucking _do_ that?”

Simon didn’t answer, his tongue was a little tied to say the least. He clutched at John’s thighs which trembled under his touch, running two huge hands up them and grazing over the goosebumps, inching further upwards.

John screamed.

Simon’s hands had wandered far enough and even more miraculously, the bastard, managed to keep himself in time: tongue swirling and hand jerking. John was reeling, shivering and panting wild. He screwed his eyes shut so sight and so quick that his head jolted and his glasses dropped from his face. He now was more than blinded by his lust, his aching want.

He fumbled to fetch them, an arduous task when he was losing all feeling in his lower body and his upper body was too clammy to keep itself upright.

He whined at the sudden loss, feeling Simon suddenly retreat. Both his tongue and fingers were rudely taken away.

“Are you ready?”

What was John ready for? His mind was swirling, all the possibilities of what Simon could still do to him were drowned out by his worry of how little he could last: spoiling their fun. He knew Simon could go for hours, the randy bastard and could make him come again and again: the pleasure always more intense than the last.

John swallowed, it was shaky and barely hid his groan. He nodded, taking a moment to pull his glasses back on. Now he could begin to associate again: his head mere inches from colliding with the window, the little curtain to the back of the bus was separating them from the other boys. From the world. There he was on all fours, leathers pooling at his ankles missing that tongue.

He felt Simon behind him before he felt Simon… wait no, that’s not Simon.

“Oh my god, what’s this?”

He was being fingered open even further, apparently Simon’s tongue wasn’t as talented as John had thought or moaned his head off over.

“Solid gold, John, _solid gold._ ” Simon breathed, as those digits were removed and John braced himself.

John screamed again.

“Lyrics?”

Simon paused to consider, “Hmm, maybe someday?”

The beads were big no, huge. Simon inched them in, one point of pleasure after another slowly and John tried to steady his breathing. He was sweating profusely, his flaming red hair falling into his eyes and sticking to his face. His hands were yanking at the plush of the seat, twisting and turning, barely able to keep him on all fours.

“Ooh, ah Char- _Charlie_ , shit.. it’s so.. so, _ugh_.”

“Good?”

John screwed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, nodding.

They both knew better, John moaning to beat the band was risky but neither man could bring themselves to care. The beads were almost in completely, John was thoroughly stretched and there were tears pricking at his eyes. His bottom lip trembled and he dropped curse after curse, shiver after shiver.

“Christ Johnny, you look _amazing_.” Simon’s voice was slightly choked off, blinded by the sight before him. “Beautiful.”

John groaned his understanding.

“You think you can take any more?”

John didn’t know how to answer, a whine was ripped deep from within his throat. He inhaled a shaky breath and rocked backwards on his knees: ass higher up in the air.

“You’re g-gon’, fuck, _kill_ me someday Le Bon, might, ah, might.. aswell.. make it now.” He stuttered.

Simon’s smirk was freaking audible. “Alright Johnny,” he stated, with a tinge of care in his voice, “hold on tight now!”

“Mother fu- _fucker!_ ”


	14. Sixty-nine, Dudes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon had some fun over the weekend and decides to tell Nick about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t read the title with Bill and Ted in mind then, I pity you. The legends. *killer air guitar solo*

**Prompt Day 14:** Sixty-nine

 **Pairing:** John/Simon Simon&Nick

_1986_

“You guys tried _what_?!” Nick exclaimed, voice hitching and blonde eyebrows raising.

Simon and Nick shared a look: wide hazel eyes on mischievous, pesky blue ones.

“You heard me, Nicholas.”

Nick cocked his head, his gaze drifting off into the distance.

It was clear that he was trying to picture it and failing miserably. So, Simon decided to be blunt about it. Nick could take it… probably.

“I’m on my back and John’s lying atop me, right, but we do it as though his head is further south so he can suck me whilst I suck on his—“

“—Okay, Christ Charlie! He’s been gone for two minutes and already you’re all over him! I don’t need to hear anymore of this.” Nick blurted out, waving his manicured hands and beginning to walk away.

Simon watched his silhouette blur into the distance, the sequins on his bolero jacket catching the light as Nick picked up his speed.

“Suck on his cock.” Simon stated to no one in particular and not at all embarrassed. Then, yelling, “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, Nick!”

“Suck on who’s what, now?” A chirpy voice called, inching closer to Simon who could practically hear his smirk.

“ _You_.” Simon breathed as he felt two lanky arms wrap around him from behind. “Always you.”

“Of course, Charlie, and don’t you go forgettin’ ‘bout it!” John laughed into his ear.

“Permission to scare Nick with more of our sexual endeavours, Johnny?” Simon quipped, whirling around so he could envelope John in his arms.

“Always, as long as I can watch.”

“Deal.”


	15. This Body’s Desperate For Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing lyrics can be a team effort, whether there’s five or only three. Nick cannot bare to Simon in such a state, alone.

**Prompt Day 15:** Sweet And Passionate

 **Pairing:** Simon/Nick

_Notorious writing session, May 1986_

Simon slouched further back into the plush of his sofa cushions, dropping his head into his hands. He had already flung his song book across the room and fetching it was too much of an effort in that moment. Nick stepped into the room to the sight: the slouch in Simon’s shoulders; his stance screaming his frustration and tiredness which was to be expected.

Writing for _Notorious_ had been incredibly taxing on him, they had so much riding on this album: their comeback.

John hadn’t been much help. He had been drunk and passed out hours ago, the two of them had hauled his huge body into Simon’s guest bedroom and were sure he wouldn’t grace them with his presence again until morning.

Eyeing the discarded book and heap of papers that were littered about Simon, Nick strutted to it and picked it up. He flicked to the page and recited the lyrics out loud, voice smooth and rich.

“How does it feel, when everyone surrounds you? How do you deal, do crowds make you feel lonely? What do you say? When people come and try to pin you down?” He heard Simon groan, he was muttering something into his hands.

“Charlie, hey Charlie.” He didn’t look at Nick. “These lyrics, they are… incredible. What is this song about?” Nick was fully aware that Simon wasn’t going to answer him.

Silence. Nick rolled his eyes as he stepped towards Simon. Nick perched beside him on the sofa, Simon could feel the dip in weight and he leant into it; almost falling into Nick’s open arms.

“Acquaintances smile, but that's no understanding. How after a while, you keep falling off the same mountain.” Nick continued, poetic, muttering into Simon’s ear as he buried his face in Nick’s chest.

He felt Simon’s shoulders quake and his breath hitch. Something within Nick snapped as he bought his tender hands up to frame Simon; clutching tight.

Nick wasn’t sure when or how but things had moved fast. Simon was on his back with Nick looming above him, painted lips caressing his neck with tender kisses as Nick’s deft hands worked open his shirt buttons. Simon was keening, back arching up into those touches. Nick’s lips sucked at his pulse point so lovingly that Simon had to moan, to buck his hips upwards in response.

“Is that, how does it feel Charlie?” Nick breathed into the sweat pooling on Simon’s chest.

“Incredible” he rasped, moulding his hips into Nick’s own.

“Do you want me too” Nick paused, fingertips running up every groove of Simon’s chest, circling his nipples and feeling them harden. “Take This further?”

He was met by those beady blue’s coated in lust, want and sheer desire. Simon’s plush lips dropped open and the sound was heavenly: “Yes.”

Their hips were grinding slowly, rocking to their own luscious beat. Nick was all over him, lips caressing every inch of skin as together they rocked deeper and deeper. Simon tossed his head back, pretty mouth falling open to moan his encouragement: his need for Nick to move faster.

Together they inched closer and closer to their sweet release, Nick’s lips locked to Simon’s neck and Simon’s nails biting into his skin. Their hips clashed, moulding together perfectly. The heat quickly proved too intense, Simon’s quaking bottom lip and heightened moans voicing how close he was.

Nick removed his lips from the column of Simon’s neck, momentarily running a finger over the pink that he had left behind. He let a hand wander down, lighting sparks across every inch of Simon’s skin. His back was arching and he groaned as Nick clutched at him, running a smooth and deft hand all over his length. He felt Simon pulse within his grasp, smiling as he did so.

Within moments both men let go. Nick’s hips were bucking wild into Simon, pants dropping from his luscious lips far too fast. Simon was just a moment behind, shivering, juices painting Nick’s chest as he groaned through his release. Nick caught his lips, swallowing his groans and robbing him of every breath. They kissed their way through, hips stuttering and limbs flailing as together: they milked each other dry.

Nick gracefully fell atop of him, tiny body blanketing Simon’s own as their sweat intermingled and pants filled the room. Simon’s eyes were clouded with lust and appreciation, those blues were blinding as he focused them on Nick’s hazel. They shared the heated glance, then heated saliva in a slow and lengthy kiss.

His voice was quiet, littered with cracks and heavy breaths. “Steal away in the morning, love's already history to you.”

“Charlie?” Nick raises his head, a small smile forming.

“Just a habit you're forming.”

“This body’s desperate for something new.” Nick chimed in.

Simon angled up his face to Nick, a beautiful and beaming smile painting his face. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was missed and he had never looked better. Craning his neck he captured Nick’s lips in another breathless, bruising kiss.

They fell asleep just like that: limbs intertwined and Nick’s head resting atop of Simon’s slick chest. Their sleep was peaceful, steadying. The reassurance, the partnership that Simon truly needed.

Footsteps crept round the corner, sliding into the room in a bid to stay quiet. The biggest grin painted John’s face, his eyes sparkling as they fell to the sight of his band mates atop of the sofa. Taking two long strides over John held two hands out, picking up Simon’s song book. He draped a blanket over their sleep slack bodies with his deft hands, encasing the two of them.

John reluctantly pulled away, grin having softened, as he felt the familiar weight of the songbook in his hands. He crept out of the room as he read over and over, the poetry splayed so lovingly atop of the page.

His lips parted as he uttered the words he added to the page. “Just a matter of feeling. This moment's madness sure to pass. And tears will dry as you're leaving,”

John turned back, seeing the two bodies draped atop of each other through the crook of the slightly open door. The smile inches across his face again as he let out a sigh, eyes sparkling.

“Who knows Charlie, you might find something to last.”


	16. Pitch Perfect Performance And After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon had a pitch-perfect performance and now it’s time for the after party but they didn’t get very far away from the stage.

**Prompt Day 16:** In Public

John/Nick/Simon

_Strange Behaviour Tour  
London Palladium, March 29th 1987_

It was the best show of the tour so far and everyone knew it. All three were smiling so wide that pride was dripping off of them alongside the sweat: a true demonstration of their dedication for saving what was bound to become such an iconic name.

They decided to show each other just how proud they each were that night, back in their dressing room.

Things had escalated quickly, John being egged along by his bottled courage and powdered strength, that saw him take to his knees very quickly before Simon.

Simon had downed a shot or two which saw him, his tongue, swirling deeper and deeper into Nick’s open mouth. Nick himself had opted for a little wine but found himself not needing much encouragement from elsewhere.

Simon was always a master at sharing the attention, when clothes had been shed faster than he could sing ‘no-no Notorious’ and tell himself that indeed yes, he would be doing it again. He ran a hand through John’s mullet as his head bobbed in his lap and held Nick with his other hand who, in turn, skirted his own fingers down Simon’s sweat slick chest.

John was content on forcing the singer to scream and screech: the notes that thankfully he managed to avoid that evening, completely. Simon had had a pitch-perfect performance. However as for now…

It didn’t take long, John was taking everything he was given. Simon’s voice escalated then was muffled as Nick swallowed his moans. John pulled off with a grunt, lapping the last of the stray juice from his flushed cheeks.

Within moments, Simon was tasting himself on John’s tongue and now, he decided, it was Nick’s turn.

Coaxing Nick down to the sofa, his weight replaced that of Simon’s as both he and John slipped to the floor. He was already naked, standing proud, as Simon took him into his hand. Crawling back up to kiss that pretty mouth, John claimed it as Nick claimed him: wrapping his hands around him, down south.

John was moaning into his mouth, panting against the inside of his cheek. Nick met those moans with force, the sounds almost violent as together they intensified.

Nick held out longer than Simon. He was painting his skin as Simon tugged harder, faster.

John felt his heat and was just a moment behind. He bucked wild into Nick’s grip, panting into the column of his throat, as he too coated both Nick and Simon.

John collapsed into Nick’s heaving body with a huff which provoked a laugh from Simon. He perched beside Nick on the sticky sofa who gave him a huge, soft smile.

All three men relaxed into each other’s embrace, absorbing the body heat. John buried his head in Nick’s shoulder and Simon bought an arm around the two of them as together they tried to beat their pulses back to normal.


	17. When The Beat Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger found himself pinned to the wall. John was devouring his mouth, nipping and sucking at his neck as he trailed lower, deeper, drawing a whine.

**Prompt Day 17:** On the floor

 **Pairing:** John/Roger

_2010_

_All You Need Is Now recording session_

  
When the beat dropped lips crashed and limbs fitted against each-other maddeningly. Roger found himself pinned to the wall. John was devouring his mouth, nipping at sucking at his neck as he trailed lower, deeper, drawing a whine.

Heads turned and throats were exposed. Roger let John strip him of his shirt, deft hands making short work of his buttons. Roger pried his shirt from him, exposing John’s flesh and he had to stifle a laugh: the tattoos. The thought was flung from his mind as John claimed his mouth again.

His trousers were yanked from him in haste, ripping at the seam. His underwear were flung far and within moments they were on the floor, rolling around, rutting and grinding up against each other. A shivering mess, giving in to the pure want.

Roger keened, arching up into John’s touch as his fingers shot lower, plunging deeper, opening and spreading him. His moans filled the room, raw and wild.

His bottom lip trembled as John sucked at his throat, drawing whine after whimper as Roger began rocking back onto his fingers. He steadied himself, letting John in: letting him twist and turn; shaking up his insides.

John kissed him senseless, all over his mouth and cheeks before delivering hot, quick kisses back down his chest.

A hand on him. John inside him. Roger quaking as John pulled back.

They moaned, rocking faster and deeper as John hammered into him hard. Roger’s eyes were rolling back and his pretty mouth fell open, spewing curse after curse as John gripped him, jerking him in time with his thrusts.

Roger was a shivering, groaning mess as John took him deeper. John was splayed out above him, sweat dripping off of his chest and landing atop of Roger. John angled his face to him, to his shielded eyes before kissing him again.

John swallowed Roger’s moans as his stomach was covered in juices.

The sensation of Roger’s inner walls contracting around him was too much, too stimulating, that John’s thrusts grew erratic. He drilled into Roger for as long as he could before dropping down atop of him and his sticky torso.

Their breaths were shaky, hot and coming too quick. John was panting into Roger’s shoulder as Roger moaned into his neck. Finding a sudden strength John cocked his head and slammed his lips back into Roger’s, coaxing his back to arch and toes to curl.


	18. A Smile Too Beautiful To Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John couldn’t hide his smile. He was so close to those lips, so close to that touch. He hadn’t felt happier.

**Prompt Day 18:** Morning After

_1981_

_Hazel O Connor Tour_

John rolled over and bumped his nose, eyes fluttering open. He blinked rapidly a couple of times before smiling, wide and beautiful, leaning into the embrace as his glasses were so graciously placed on his face. Now things were clear, John could see where he was and who was with. Lying with, sharing a bed with.

Naked and sharing a bed with.

He felt a nervous tingle that began in his fingers as they crept closer to the body beside him, before running down his spine. John giggled, chirpy, as their fingers interweaved; the spark igniting in the small and tender touch.

He shuffled impossibly closer, laughing as they bumped noses again. John sighed as those shy fingers dropped down to caress his waist, his profound hipbones. With a shudder, John found himself cocking his hip into the touch and let the smile broaden. He let his ruby red hair flutter into his eyes and let those deft fingers brush them aside.

John leant down, hunching over, to nuzzle his cheek. The movement was so shy that he couldn’t help but grin at the giggles that filled the air around him.

John took his chance, cheeks tinted pink and eyes sparkling, to wrap a long leg around them. He inched his foot upwards, teasing, yet still unable to hide his shiver.

John felt his head swim and heart flutter as tender lips caressed his own. The kiss was slow, chaste, full of promise. John let his lips part and breath stutter as together, their mouths moulded as one.

Falling back into his pillow, John let his huge body be blanketed by a smaller yet strong frame. He ran both hands up those sides, chuckling, upon feeling those deft fingers cup his face. John let slip a small moan, grounding his cheek into the open palm.

Crooking a nimble finger John beckoned those luscious lips back down to share a heated kiss. Those lips caressed his neck, nipping and sucking as John arched up into the touch.

John’s lips parted and he let slip the sound, desperate and full of need.

“ _Roger_.”


	19. Talented Hands And Mouths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon really doesn’t believe John and his story. They’ll get off either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a chapter in John’s book in which he really states that he never saw roadhead until about 1996. I still find that hard to believe. He was surely having it himself waaaaaaaaaay earlier.

**Prompt Day 19:** Roadhead

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_2001_

_On the road in Los Angeles_

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard.”

“Well, Charlie, it’s true.”

“Bullshit.”

“True shit.”

“….Bullshit John.”

“I mean it, Charlie! It never happened until _Neurotic Outsiders!_ ”

“You’re fooling nobody with this story, Taylor.”

“It wasn’t even me! I was just there chilling with the rest of the guys.”

“Suuuuuuure. Just sat there. Whilst she was on her knees. Just sat there.”

“Hey!”

“Same old John, putting in as little effort with his women as possible.”

“Hey, again!”

“Will you just stop lying to me Johnny? There’s not a chance in hell that you’ve never experienced roadhead. Not a chance.”

“For the last time, Char-lie, I have never, ever been sucked off in the back of a car.”

“Well, you are a poor man Johnny. I think it’s about time we ratify that.”

“Hmm?”

“Pull over.”

“Why do I need to pull over. You’re a singer, you have a talented mouth. Open it with your teeth, I’ll keep driving.”

“Still a huge slut?”

“I’ll never age.”

“You’ll never grow up.”

“…Touché Charlie, touché. Now, open it with your teeth and get to work.”

“Eager bastard.”

“You know it. I’ll repay you, later.”

“Talented mouth and talented hands huh, John. What a pair we are.”

“Precisely, Charlie. What a fucking great pair we are.”


	20. Fill Me Up, I Can Take It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s being filled and it’s not slow and steady. He’s not too sure he can take it.

**Prompt Day 20:** Your Own Kink

_This isn’t exactly a kink of my own (yet, lol) but I like reading and writing about it and the whole uh, ‘torture’ aspect is intriguing. For some reason I really wanted to write this with John so, here we go:_

John’s entire body was trembling violently. His eyes were screwed shut. His plush lips dropped open, spewing curses and pleads: to be filled; stretched and taunted. To be teased, demeaned and downgraded. Tied up and bound to the headboard, blindfold in place.

He was on all fours, eyes shielded and groaning his head off. His body was doused in sweat as he rocked back and forth. Each bead was sending shocks through him, pressing down on his prostate so hard that he was screaming one moment and moaning himself hoarse the next.

He wanted nothing more than to touch himself. His member throbbed tauntingly, the feeling was so intense that he didn’t think he could take another bead and hold himself together. Being a good boy, holding off until he was allowed to come.

John let out a full body shudder, amplified by a hiss and a throaty whine as the pre-come trickled down.

Each bead was shoved in with little force, teasing hands making him take them all. He had no idea how many were in him, the size. All John knew was that he was screaming again, leaning back into it and trembling in sheer lust. Pitiful desperation.

John cried out, hands buckling before his face hit the pillow. He groaned, the sounds being ripped from him as the beads were. They were yanked out slowly, brushing his prostate with a force so intense that he was seeing stars; coating his stomach and the blanket beneath him.

John couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t choked on his own tongue.

There he sat, panting, groaning. Ass up in the air, face pressed into the pillows. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He couldn’t see anything if he opened his eyes but black.

He knew the beads were a weakness but the feeling was so good, so intense, that he would be filled with them over and over. No questions asked.


	21. Two Soaked Bodies Are Better Than One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water is running and it’s pure torture. John just has to join him in there. Be with him (in him?) in there.

**Prompt Day 21:** Shower sex

 **Pairing:** John/Roger

I never would have thought that Duran Duran played Rock City. Not rock enough. But boy, am I wrong. THE FUCK!

_1981_

_Rock City, Nottingham_

“That was a freaking great show, I’ve never known anything like it!” John’s voice hitched as he stripped himself of his sweat stained shirt.

He plonked himself down atop of the double bed, running the shirt over his sweaty face. His eyes found Roger, also covered in sweat and shirtless standing by the tiny window.

“You want to go first or can I?” Roger asked over his shoulder.

“You can, you’re way sweatier than me. I’ll just hover here.”

Roger nodded, heading to his open suitcase at the foot of the bed. “That’s because I actually have to use these muscles, Johnny.”

Both laughed in time. John focused his gaze on Roger and how his slick back muscles rippled as he moved, how his bicep would crunch as he leant forward; diving deeper into his suitcase. John licked his ruby stained lips, sighing at the strawberry remnants that coated his tongue.

Having grabbed a pair of pyjama bottoms and his toiletries, Roger brushed past him and headed for the en-suite, closing the door behind him.

John splayed himself out atop of the mattress, wincing as he almost stuck himself to it. He heard the water flicker on and his eyes slipped shut, his scarlet hair lolling deeper into the cream sheets.

He closed his eyes and envisioned the tiny shower stall. Roger’s muscular frame being pelted with the water. Roger running his hands over his body, massaging the body lotion all over himself, running further, deeper, lower down towards his—

“Fuck!”

John was up and stripping himself of his leathers in moments. (Which would have been flung to the floor in haste if he could actually get them off quick. Off now. He was far too sweaty and that proved near impossible so he shimmied out of them, trying not to fall flat on his face as he did so.)

John didn’t even gather his things, he just strolled straight towards the en-suite door and flung it open.

“Christ John!”

There was Roger, eyes blown wide amongst a sea of swirling fog and heat which didn’t do much to hide his soaked form. The top half of it, all those dripping muscles.

“What?” John stated, coy. Eyes running all over Roger as he tried to cover himself, a pointless endeavour and they both were well aware of that. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What do you want?” Roger stated as he turned away from him, body immersing itself in the steam.

“Oh nothing much.. just, you know, wanna uh..”

“Watch?” John could’ve sworn Roger’s voice just dropped; it was husky. Straining.

“Um, y-yeah, I.. That, yeah.” John inwardly cursed how his newfound confidence was washed straight down the drain along with all those lucky droplets of water that hit each inch of Roger’s—

“Faggot.”

John supposed he had that one coming and besides, he had heard way worse that it didn’t bother him.

“Why not.”

Before Roger had any chance to voice his opinion on the scenario, John had already flung his boxers to the floor and was heading straight for him: gaze locked. Hot and heavy.

“The fuck John?” Roger breathed as John filled his space.

The shower stall was tiny, the two of them had only inches between them. Roger kept his eyes up, trying to focus on John’s face and realised, cursing, just where John was looking.

“You pervert!”

John laughed along, already sinking to his knees.

“You don’t want too Froggy, you better speak up!” 

“John; you really don’t have too-agh!” Roger choked on his own tongue.

Screwing his eyes shut, Roger let his head tip back to hit the slick tile. He may have been the quiet one in the group, always biting his tongue, but right here right now: he couldn’t zip up his moans.

John swirled his tongue, lapping around Roger’s shaft as he took more of him into his mouth. Prodding into the slit, John gagged as he felt Roger thrust forward. He was sloppy about it, well aware that this was something new for the both of them. 

“John.. fuck, I..” Roger stammered out, hands landing in John’s scarlet hair that was plastered to his forehead. “I’m close, pull off.”

John did no such thing. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath before swallowing as much of Roger’s length as he could. His tongue swirled wild, in random patterns. He felt a surge in Roger’s pulse, his breath deepened and stuttered. His hips were buckling, rocking deeper into John’s throat.

Roger screamed. John gagged.

John caught Roger’s suddenly too heavy frame as he fell forward, bringing him back up to press him into the wall. Roger’s mouth was parted, he was panting and John swallowed them: thrusting the taste of Roger straight into his own mouth. John pushed him deeper into the tile, rutting up against him as the kiss grew hotter, more intense.

John was grinding against him forcefully, sharing saliva and stealing every breath Roger could muster. He felt two hands clutch at his ass, coaxing John closer, to rut against Roger and his cut hips harder. John broke away with a throaty groan, quickly burying his head in Roger’s shoulder as Roger began to kiss and bite his way across John’s jawline.

John was panting, groaning, trembling all over. His hips were rocking faster, buckling, jolting and he was coming. Screaming, knees going soft and coating Roger’s already soaked stomach.

Letting Roger take his weight, John fell forward. He fell right into Roger’s lips.

“Christ, Rog.. I, I uh… fuck!”

Their laughter began to sync, John’s smile was huge and his eyes were sparkling. Sparkling through the lust that coated them. Roger too was grinning wide, his smile was beautiful. Both men were flushed, soaking wet, stained and satisfied.

Roger’s deft hand yanked at John’s hair, bringing him in to kiss him again.

They were both oh, so satisfied.


	22. Friends Of Mine Play Poker (And Fuck Atop The Same Table)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Friends Of Mine _card game really did have a purpose. Nick won the hand and Nick won the bet.__

**Prompt Day 22:** Table sex

 **Pairing:** John/Nick

_1981_

_Friends Of Mine video shoot_

“And that” Nick paused, splaying all the cards out atop the tiny table, “is a flush.”

“Goddamnit!” John yelled, slamming his own hand down. “That’s three wins in a row, Bates. Care to teach me such sorcery?”

Nick raised an eyebrow and pouted, ruby lips shining and oh, so prominent.

“Perhaps, I could teach you a couple tricks of the trade some other time Johnny but for now,” his voice dropped, tone riddled with suggestion and desire, “you uphold your end of the bargain.”

John wanted to try act like he didn’t want it, how he was disappointed enough with his third loss of the night but, well if he was truly honest with himself…

“John, come on. We don’t have all day, only another hour until our studio session is up.” Nick prompted him, already sweeping the cards from the table top.

“Alright.” His voice was shaky, mouth dry, as John rose to his feet.

He helped Nick pack away the cards, still questioning whoever’s big idea it was to feign a poker game for this video because whoreing out one’s purse strings and pride somehow connotes a healthy friendship, together they cleaned the table. John lay the daffodils to one side, taking a brief moment to inhale their scent. Innocent, pure.

They would both be eradicating that aura within moments.

John’s eyes, not that Nick could really see them through his fingers, had darkened. He bit into his ruby stained bottom lip as he perched atop of the tiny table. Hands braced at either side, legs parted: his stance was so open and inviting.

Both were wearing far too much leather for their own good, the vinyl clutching to every lump, filling every groove of skin. It was suffocating yet, oddly erotic. Very erotic.

Nick needed John out of those leather shackles now. He had won, John had agreed.

Closing in on John, lust coating his gaze, he placed two deft hands on his thighs. Not too close to his straining member but still so close that John bucked his hips upwards ever so slightly, tipping his head back.

Nick’s teasing fingers made short work of John’s buttons and zips. They were ripped from John’s eager crotch and shimmied down his trembling legs. John helped him kick them off, hands falling to the strain in his lap.

“Nick, Christ.. I need you.” John moaned, palming himself through the tiny black fabric. “I need you, that cock, now!”

“Take of your jacket.”

John took of his jacket, flinging it to the floor.

“Hand me your scarf.”

John handed Nick his scarf, well aware of what he was going to do with it.

“Arms out.”

John held his arms out, mouth dropping open as Nick began to wind the thick, cream fabric around his wrists. John was bound, bound tight.

“Lie down.”

John lay down.

“Legs up.”

John let his legs go limp, helping Nick to secure them around his waist.

Nick could see almost everything from this delicious angle. There was just one final piece of fabric disrupting his view. The briefs had to go.

John groaned, eyes rolling back as Nick palmed him. He enclosed his small palm around John for a tenth of a second, before prying his underwear free. They were flung into the red and black heap on the floor, out of sight.

John arched up into Nick’s touch, his breath proving too stimulating as his lips hovered above his cock.

“Nick.. fuck, please!” John’s voice was raw, taut, as Nick’s lips hovered dangerously close to him, juices now flowing free.

Nick’s mouth was heavenly, tongue running up and down every inch. Nick took his time, slow and steady, hollowing his cheeks to suck even harder. John was trembling, hips bucking upwards; fucking Nick’s mouth deeper. John didn’t want to thrust too far, in fear of what Nick would do: if Nick would pull off, neglect him and leave him there.

Unfortunately for John, Nick did just that. He flashed John a devilish grin, his scarlet lips quirking upwards. John watched in awe, drooling, as Nick’s luscious fingers plunged lower. He flicked open his zip and edged himself out, John smirked to himself upon the realisation that yes. Yes, Nick wasn’t wearing anything underneath his leathers.

Nick was taking the leaf out of John’s book that John couldn’t believe he hadn’t done himself, today. Or maybe he had, knowing how wild he would be driven upon feeling his traitorous member brush maddeningly up against the slick fabric.

John steadied his breathing and let Nick haul his weight. Roughly, he yanked John’s legs up to expose every inch. Nick could see everything, feel everything as John twisted and twitched in his grasp.

Running two fingers down John’s inner thigh, he was trembling and Nick could feel his heat. Each touch lit fires atop John’s pasty skin that it flushed. He was panting, already covered in sweat and there wasn’t anything in him yet. No fingers.

For another ten seconds or so.

Nick wormed a digit in and John’s mouth dropped open. His groans were choked off, submerged in a sea of moans as he began to rock himself further onto Nick. Nick, who added another crooked finger. Nick, who had three fingers prying John open, threatening him to come undone. Falling apart at the seams.

“Are you ready, Nigel?”

John nodded over and over, he couldn’t speak.

Nick withdrew his fingers, revelling in the whine it drew from John. It was pained, throaty. Neither man had ever heard a sound so delicious and John didn’t even have a cock in him yet.

For another ten seconds or so.

John screamed from the top of his lungs, panting wildly as Nick was slamming into him. He hooked an arm around John’s leg, pulling him up higher, exposing him, thrusting into him deeper. He hit that sweet spot and John groaned deep and throaty, writhing in Nick’s length, desperate to take more of him in.

His hands were bound and desperate to touch himself. His cock bobbed between them as Nick leant further down, chest brushing against it with a maddening touch. He picked up his pace, painting nails clawing into John’s slick skin.

John choked on his own tongue as he felt Nick’s heat, his slick palm jerking him in time with his thrusts. His head was pounding against the table, jaw slack and spewing pure filth; itching for his release. Together they groaned, rocking deeper and deeper as the table threatened to crumble beneath them, to send them both crashing to the floor.

Miraculously it held up, quaking as John was drilled deeper. He was moaning with every thrust, ever slam until his ears were ringing and he was seeing spots. John was screaming, he knew he was but he couldn’t hear it. He was trembling all over yet he was numb, tingling, wallowing in sensation.

Nick stroked him through with his rough tugging, milking John dry. His bucking became erratic, turning to jolts and quakes as Nick empties himself inside John; groans perfectly in sync as together they came down from their high.

Nick collapsed into John, covered in sweat and leather sticking to him. John was panting, skin flush and eyes blown wide. His lip was bleeding for having bitten into it so deep, his hair was skewed and his bandana was half falling into his eyes. Nick fell into John’s mess, atop of his hands and the now ruined scarf that kept them there.

John cocked a leg around him, bringing him in closer. Feeling every inch, writhing on Nick’s flaccid self. He tipped his head up and Nick was crawling to meet him, mouth agape and panting harshly. John kissed him: breathless and sloppy. All over his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids and nose.

“That.. Christ, I..” John stammered into Nick’s ruffled hair, “We should.. Nick, we should… play cards more often.”

Nick barked out a laugh although it came out near breathless.

“To have you following.. fuck, following orders like that Johnny” Nick’s voice stuttered and cracked, “yeah.. we really have to.. make more bets.”

John could already feel himself coming back to life down south, he chuckled as Nick noticed it too.

“You wanna, you know uh, do it again? Using the table?”

Nick flashed him a sly grin, hands already tugging at his vinyl jacket. That was enough of an answer.


	23. The Way We Did When We Were Younger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may have been thirty years but that spark it could never go out. No matter where they are, it just burns brighter.

**Prompt Day 23:** Shy sex

 **Pairing:** John/Roger

_2011_

_All You Need Is Now recording session  
  
_

“Just, c’mere.” John stated, opening his arms with a crooked grin. His eyes were sparkling behind the frames, beckoning Roger over.

Roger squinted, pursing his lips before rolling his eyes and abandoning his sticks. He strolled over, casually, and let John guide him into his lap.

He straddled him, wrapping both hands around his head. Roger was looming over John, for once, taking in those darkened chocolate eyes and those parted and moist lips.

Snaking a hand up, John caught his hair and eased Roger forward. Their lips danced a slow, thorough kiss. He helped Roger forward who took the hint, resting his head on John’s chest, right over his stupid chakra tattoo. That didn’t stop Roger from kissing it.

“Do you remember” John began, breath tickling Roger’s ear and causing them both to shiver, “the first time… we uh, did this?”

“Did what Johnny? We have done quite a lot.” Roger answers absentmindedly, inhaling John’s musky scent.

John’s hands began running up and down his back, kneading the muscles before diving lower. His nimble fingers disappeared under Roger’s shirt.

“You know, Rog.. when we first.”

“First what?” Roger breathed, bringing his head up so their eyes were focusing on each other: coated in lust. “I think you’ll need to remind me, Johnny.”

John laughed at the suggestiveness in Roger’s tone, how it had dropped ever so slightly. He eyed him until Roger broke the contact, looking down to John’s gorgeous hands now loosening his shirt buttons.

“You were so shy about it, I had never seen anything so uh, you know—“

“—Pathetic?” Roger questioned, helping John to strip him. Slow and steady, there was no need to rush.

“No, of course not. So beautiful. We were both so young, so terrified of.. yeah. What could happen. So shy.”

This time it was Roger’s turn to chuckle as he placed his strong hands back on John’s pecs. “I was always shy, John. Still am, a little.” Roger admitted. “If anything being with you, I.. Christ. Nigel, I felt as though I could finally be me. I had never felt so comfortable with anyone before. I don’t think I have since.”

John’s gaze hadn’t left Roger’s the entire time. His mouth had dropped open and his eyes had widened but Roger couldn’t help but smile. He was beaming, inching closer to John and his beautiful lips. John claimed him, the kiss was more fierce than before, gaining in force and showcasing his want. Roger was left breathless, head swimming, falling deeper into John’s touch.

“You had me, those gorgeous eyes and hot little body, you had me. Rog, from day one, all those decades ago.” John muttered as the parted for air, with a small trail of drool between them.

Roger lay his head back atop of John: kissing his tattoo again. John giggled, leaning into his touch.

“I’m so glad that this never stopped. The spark.. Rog, it never, it will never burn out. Right?” Roger looked up to him, seeing the worry through his shielded eyes.

John was always worrying about the most pointless of things.

“Thirty years John. It’s only been thirty years of that spark.” He was reminded.

Roger’s hands began to knead the tops of his chest, his lanky arms, the back of his neck. John leant into it, letting out a soft moan as Roger’s lean fingers made their way round to his lips, his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere, John.” They were kissing again, long and slow. “Never, never again.”

The kiss gained in intensity, both hips grinding together in a slow, snake charmers dance. It was mad, they were both mad yet so content. Besides, who said they couldn’t have another ten years under their leather belts? Twenty?

John groaned hotly into Roger’s mouth before he pulled away, trailing little kisses up John’s neck.

  
Thirty?

That was as good of an answer as any.


	24. This Goes Where, Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wanted to try something new. It didn’t quite go to plan. Oh well, live and learn.

**Prompt Day 24:** New Position

 **Pairing:** Simon/Nick

_1985_

_Arcadia recording session, Paris_

“Wait, wait, wait. No, Nick, let’s start again. Let me help you down.”

“Okay, Charlie. This is really testing my patience now, last time.”

“Alright.. uh, shit. So, you lie there on your back.”

“Yeah, simplistic enough.”

“Then I move here and straddle this.”

“Yeah, prop yourself up on my-“

“-Yeah, okay. Then uh, you bring your arm up.. here? No, there.”

“Like this?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Christ, you’re going to brake my arm.”

“Probably, sorry! Now, uh, legs.”

“Like.. shit, like this? Wasn’t it, Charlie?”

“Yeah, yeah. Now bring this.. ugh; here. And I’ll move myself up.. ow, no not there.. here. I think.”

“Fuck! Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Uh, I don’t know. A little?”

“Sorry, I.. where does this go?”

“I think, Nick.. there. No, lower, little lower.. yeah. Stop there. Now I can rest here atop of your-“

“-The fuck?!”

“I have no idea! My arms are up here which is right and you.. your sexy little legs are there.. yes so uh.”

“Why can I not reach your—“

“—No fucking clue, sorry Nick.”

“Don’t apologise; it’s me too!”

“Fuck! Let’s get untangled.”

“Want to just, do it on all fours Charlie? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“Hell yes, sorry again for getting you into this mess!”

“Don’t be. I had fun. I didn’t think such an exercise would bring such enjoyment.”

“I.. hmmm. A sexy, sexy enjoyment?”

“Shut it, Charlie!”

“Alright, jeez’. Now; let’s get you up. On all fours, c’mon Nicholas. I don’t have all day!”

“Me neither.. wanker.”


	25. Rog Saw The Bedroom Toys And Now He’s Stalling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has some questions over some intriguing lyrics. Thankfully, Simon is there to remind him of... things. Important things.

**Prompt Day 25:** With Toys

 **Pairing:** Simon/Roger

  
  
_2004_

_Astronaut recording session_

**_I saw the Bedroom Toys. Now I’m crawling._ **

****

“It’s still an incredibly questionable song, Charlie.”

**_I learn to improvise._ **

****

“I guess you and Yasmin have really had a… a hell of a time, yeah?”

Simon turned to him, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Not just Yasmin, my dear Roger.”

Something within Roger clicked. A warning siren. An alarm bell. Whatever it was, crashing of his cymbals, told him to retreat: bug out right there. This would be information that he really did not need to know.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” Simon was smirking, blue eyes roaming all over Roger.

He was still perched behind his drum kit but even behind all the drums and cymbals: he felt naked; paraded about in front of the singer.

Roger heaved out a sigh, bringing his eyes back up to Simon. “No, but you’re gonna tell me anyway aren’t you?”

When had Simon gotten so close to him?

Simon hovered for Roger’s left, resting a hand atop of his cymbals. Roger’s eyes widened at the movement, intrusion into his domain. His sanctuary.

“Well, Roger, it’s no secret that I, us. That we,” Simon paused, smirk firmly in place. “Us, all of us, as a band were very.. very.. experimental.”

Roger’s eyes widened.

“And not just in the ways of music, my dear Froggy.”

Roger dropped his sticks.

He stuttered, saying who knows what. Roger wasn’t sure, he was caught in Simon’s headlights.

Both of them were well aware that Roger knew what Simon had meant. The four, no, five of them- he reminded himself, the five of them had done things. Lots of things. Sometimes alcohol had been involved, sometimes it involved certain Taylors on cocaine but thing had happened. Lots of things. Things he would never forget and wouldn’t ever want too.

The memories were precious, sacred. They detailed deep bonds, when friendships were tried and tested. They detailed a time of innocence and purity, turn falling victim to something new. Something different. Exciting from one angle, nauseating from the next.

There were things involved sometimes, more complex things. Things that involved locks and keys. Things that involved lubricants and prying fingers. Those things were always even more special, opening him up in more ways than one.

Roger felt loved, wanted, craved. The feelings were so intense that, he was sure, they were all being driven to madness. He just didn’t have the drugs and drinks to blame.

“Rog? Hey, Rog?”

He cocked his head up, wondering just how long he had been staring right through Simon.

“This is Planet Earth.” Simon was singing, catching Roger’s attention. “Calling Planet Earth.”

As if on cue: “bop bop bop, bop bop bop, bop bop.”

“This is Planet Earth.” They sang together, pulling Roger from his daze.

“Rog, you okay?” Simon’s voice was light and he was resting on his cymbals again.

Roger shook his head in agreement, finding his mouth suddenly dry.

The sly look on Simon’s face said it all: “too many.. interesting memories? Fantasies? Experiments?” He wagged his eyebrows twice in quick succession.

Roger was sure he was blushing, eyes already falling back to his hands as they settled in his lap.

“Wanker.” He muttered, barely audible.

“Not when we were together, right Froggy?”

Roger jerked his head up, already chuckling.

Simon flashed him another look, it was dark and full of… so much. So many emotions. So many memories. He felt at home, safe.

Simon had begun to withdraw, making his way back to his mic stand. Upon returning to it, he ran a hand up it before clutching his mic and pulling it free.

“Once more from the top?” Roger stated, voice dry.

Simon nodded, eyebrow raised.

“What were we talking about again?”

Still grinning, Simon found his voice. “Which Bedroom Toys made it into the song?”

“Ah, that.” Roger coughed, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t answer.”

“But you know though, don’t you.”

Roger paused, eyes finding Simon’s. There were flashes of dates, bedrooms, tour buses and dressing rooms. He would be torturing himself with the memories but Roger wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then, it hit him. Right in the heart, stirring up a warmth within him that he couldn’t deny.

“Yeah. Yeah Charlie.. I, yeah.” He nodded, with his beautiful smile that really had ages perfectly. “I do, I know exactly what you mean.”


	26. That Man Of Mine Is A Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve had tons of sex, sure, but they’ve never _made love _. It’s about time that changes, they can control themselves enough to make it last.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m falling deep into this shipstorm- and fast! Andy really deserves more love. <3

**Prompt Day 26:** ‘Vanilla’ sex

 **Pairing:** John/Andy

_1985_

_New York_

John moaned as he felt a pressure at his back. Andy crowded him, hands roaming all over. John shimmied out of his grasp and without word, he was being wrestled, turned over and over on the bed until finally he relented. Andy hovered above him, flashing him a crooked smile. He was trying to regain his breath through his giggles. John swore under his breath.

Teasing lips descended to his neck as he brushed his brown ringlets to one side and moaned his encouragement. A rough hand slipped beneath his silk shirt, trailing circles over his slightly podgy stomach, down to his long legs. He tore himself free and flung his own shirt to the floor. John lay himself back, up on his forearms and cocked an eyebrow. He let Andy yank off his leathers, smirking.

John’s gaze was teasing, bordering on predatory. He knew Andy couldn’t resist him like this. How Andy had up until this moment truly shocked him and John wasn’t having any more of it.

With haste Andy stripped himself, clothes falling to the floor atop John’s discarded leather and silk. Andy kissed him long and slow as John wrapped his legs around his hips, bringing him in closer.

“Go _slow_.” John whispered as he broke away, clutching at his back.

Andy smiled, a genuine smile and shook some overgrown black hair out of his face. He shifted so his hands were on the ridges of John’s hips. Andy kissed down John’s stomach, across his cut hips and he keened. John hissed, as Andy trailed his tongue up the insides of his quaking thighs. He moaned as Andy reached a hand up to skirt over his chest.

His nimble fingers penetrated John, slow and steady, he massaged and opened him up, rubbing him down as though John was a horse that he was trying to tame. John let him, wallowing in his touch and inwardly begging that he didn’t stop.

That this tender side didn’t stop. At least, not tonight.

John hadn’t a clue that Andy could be so slow and attentive. Maybe it was only when sex was at stake but that night Andy showed him that he could be tamed. That Andy could ground him and could keep himself grounded.

For the first time they made love, not sex, love. John’s skin tingled, his heart felt light. John loved every minute of it and only prayed that it would last. They would make it last.


	27. See Me, Engrave Me (Oh, Oh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John got a little thrill out of seeing every mark etched into his pasty skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by the 1979 Duran demo _See Me, Repeat Me ___

**Prompt Day 27:** Biting, scratching

  
_1985_

Slipping out of the silken sheets, John staggered into the en-suite. He fumbled for the cord and jacked on it a little harder than necessary, hissing at the disco lights that momentarily blinded him.

He stepped forward, eyes trying to adjust and looking for his figure in the huge mirror. Once located and head beginning to clear, John surveyed himself.

He had a sly grin painting his face as he took in the sights. Turning, he caught the lines that were coating his back. The branding, having sunk into the skin. The bites, the scratches were tinted red and he winced at the touch.

John found himself grinning wider upon another silhouette coming into view. John could feel him before he could see him, the smaller body pressed up behind him. He moaned upon feeling a pressure on the marks engraved onto his back, the skin still raw. John shuddered as lips descended down his neck, eyes rolling back as he couldn’t keep them open on his nude reflection any more. He groaned as teeth nipped at him, down his chest as the body manoeuvred himself round to John’s front, tickling his chest and licking his navel.

John whined, panted, as he was swallowed whole. His body was shaking as he stumbled backwards, pressing himself into the wall, bringing those lips with him. Those talented lips that hadn’t stopped during the operation.

His hands were everywhere. Running up and down John’s trembling thighs, before diving deeper, deeper into his tender inner thighs that had John rocking forward and thrusting himself deeper into that moist warmth.

John felt that familiar pricking sensation, a stir in his stomach that saw him gripping helplessly at the wall, thrusting quicker and moaning wildly.

Within moments he whited out, nails gripping his balls as he pumped into that elongated throat and swirling tongue lapped up all John gave him.

He had barely caught back his breath and it was being stolen again. John was tasting himself on that hot tongue, keening as those nails raked down his lanky arms and began to scrape over his stomach.

Pulling away with a stream of saliva between them, John gasped out a single syllable, watching that hot little body disappear from his view: smirk in place.

“ _Andy_.”


	28. All He Wants Is (Nylon And Chiffon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there anything this man cannot rock? No. The answer is a big, fat, diamond encrusted no.

**Prompt Day 28:** Role Play

 **Pairing:** Simon/Nick

_1988_

Simon choked on his tongue.

“All he wants is.” Nick stated, voice low.

Simon was speechless, for once.

“All he wants is.” Nick cocked out his hips, strutting towards him.

Simon just nodded.

“All he wants is!”

“Ugh!” Simon groaned, as Nick fell into his lap.

He straddled him, Simon’s eager digits tugging at the fabric and trailing up Nick’s corset. Corset?

“Christ Nicholas, you really… Christ.”

Nick looked down at himself, pastel lips quirking into a small smile. He bought his eyes, smokey and daring, back up to Simon. He leant forward, ruffles brushing against Simon’s chest. He guided Simon’s fingers up his back, cinched in nice and tight, to run over each eyelet. Each threading of smooth satin. They trailed lower, lost in the layers of chiffon and lace, a sea of black and white.

“The sexiest French maid out there, Nicholas” Simon breathed, hands daring to dive deeper into the layers of tulle.

“I really thought that” Nick cut himself off as Simon began pulling at the fishnets that encased his thigh, “you, Charlie. You would be beyond this sort of thing.”

Nick let Simon roll of his stocking; inching it down his legs as he kicked off his heels.

“I just knew you would have one of these outfits.”

“And you had to see it.”

Simon just smirked, pesky digits working to remove Nick’s other stocking.

“Indeed I did, Nicholas. Indeed I did.”

Simon tossed it into the pile of nylon, topped with Nick’s ruby red heels. Nick straddled him again, bringing his hands up to rest at the back of Simon’s neck. He dipped down his head and let Simon claim him, grabbing his lips with his teeth.

“Mmm, Charlie.”

“You gonna be a good girl now? Do exactly what daddy tells you when he tells you?”

Nick narrowed his eyes, finding his will caving in at the sight of Simon. So pleading, so desperate.

Maybe on some level they both deserved this.

Nick lay a deft hand on Simon’s chest, nudging him back down into the mattress. His pastel lips hovered inches from Simon’s, open and panting.

“I’m all yours, Charlie.”

“Oh you sexy French Maid, you!”

Nick groaned at Simon’s peppy tone.

“Don’t spoil the mood. I need this erection.”

Simon cocked an eyebrow. “That’s such a John thing to say. I thought you had more… poise than that?”

Nick rolled his eyes and shuffled lower so things were in better alignment. He chuckled as Simon groaned, hips bucking upwards to meet him.

“Yes Simon, I do indeed have more poise. Other than now” Nick captured Simon’s lips in his own.

“Oh, really Nicholas?”

Smirking, Nick again left Simon stunned.

“So just shut up and fuck me, make me your whore.”


	29. Less Talking, More Licking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tastes so sweet and creamy, all tied up like that. It won’t be long until they both burst.

Prompt Day 29: With food

Pairing: John/Simon

_1983_

_Nice, South Of France_

“You ready Johnny?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Charlie.”

“Alright. Try to hold still now… Stop wriggling and laughing!”

“It’s hard, my God! It’s.. it’s so cold too!”

“Just take it like a man.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome!”

“…Missed abit.”

“Where?”

“Down, Charlie. Lower. There, my thighs.”

“Oh.”

“Christ! It’s so.. so cold!”

“Try not to kick me in the face now, ‘Kay Johnny?”

“Uh.”

“You kick me in the face, I’ll leave you here strapped up and sticky.”

“…Not that I’m complaining but fine.”

“Okay, I’m on it.”

“Start up top. Work your way down.”

“So demanding!”

“Just.. Just get on with it Charlie! Gimme that tongue!”

“You got it, John.”

“Oh, oh.. shit! Charlie, ah, that feels.. shit.”

“Good? It tastes so sweet!”

“Hot. So… ugh, fuckin’ hot. Keep going, lick it all! Lick straight down.. down my, fuck! Stomach. Stomach, Jesus.”

“Like that?”

“Mmmhmm, shit!”

“Try not to wriggle away now! There’s a huge pile here just waiting to get—“

“—Less talkin’, ngh.. More licking!”

“Impatient git.”

“Fuck! T-that’s.. right there, Christ. Lick it, suck it all.. and ugh, Charlie.. uh, whilst you’re down there.”

“… mmm, yes Johnny?”

“FUCK ah- AH, Charlie! Christ.. that.. that fuckin’ tongue, such a… a damn, ugh, tease! Don’t, d-don’t stop, shit.”

“… You’re so damn, yum, lucky I.. I like whip cream.”

“And that, shit! That I.. I like, love, that tongue!”

“And chocolate.”

“Mmhmm, Charlie. Yes, yesss ah, right there!”

“..You’ll lemme know when you’re gonna—“

“—Thought you wanted to know what it tastes like? Fuck, all the.. agh! All the c-c, ah, cream?!”

“That I do, John. That I do.”

“Sweet lord. Just.. j-Just keep on, fuck Charlie, keep kicking me. All of it, I want all the.. ugh, whip cream off!”

“Your wish is my command, dear.”

“Ha, blow me.”

“I’m working on it, it’s not creamy enough in here yet.”

“Motherfucker!”

“You’re such a sweet, sweet little ho, Taylor.”

“Ngh, Charlie!”

“We need more cream, you need to make it rain.”

“Char—“

“—Where else can my tongue go?”

“T-treasure.. treasure trai— FUCK!”


	30. Leather Upon Leather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s really working himself up over this bassline. He’s very fortunate to have Simon _ground _him... in every sense of the word.__

**Prompt Day 30:** Straddling

 **Pairing:** John/Simon

_1982_

_Rio Recording session_  
  


“The hell are you still doing here, John? Thought you left hours ago.”

John startled as he took in the lean frame that crowded the door. He squinted as Simon strutted over and hovered before him, by the sound deck.

“You should have left hours ago.” He stated as John focused his gaze back on his bass, in hand. “Look at your fingers, they’ll be raw if you keep this up.”

Without another word Simon slipped the chair back and practically fell into John’s lap, who gasped, as Simon ground their hips together.

“Not now, Charlie.” His voice was strained. “Fuck, I, Ive gotta.. this damn bassline still isn’t soundin’ right.”

“For which song?” Simon chuckled before his lips headed to John’s neck, opening buttons and clutching at his pecs.

“ _Rio_ ” John let out in a short breath, “it’s just, uh, it’s got.. think it’s got so much potential and I, shit Charlie.. d-don’t wanna mess it up.”

Simon hands enveloped his little cross chain and he yanked it, coaxing John closer.

“Don’t worry about it for the moment, baby.”

He crushed their lips together, tongue slipping into John’s mouth as he yelped. He rolled his hips up, catching Simon’s sweet ass in one huge hand as the other gripped at his hair.

“Shit, Si... Stop, if we now.. then I won’t.. I won’t be able to ah.. again, tonight.”

Simon carried on stripping John of his silken shirt.

“Simon,” John’s voice was a near whisper, “Once we start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I know you won’t be able too, Johnny. I know you.” Simon winked. John groaned.

Simon rocked back and fourth, nails raking over John’s now bare chest as his fingers made short work of Simon’s leather jacket and shirt. His deft fingers caught his studded belt and he yanked the chains free.

There Simon sat: jeans open, bobbing in John’s lap. It was a strange change in dynamic, usually John would be the one falling all over him but it went without saying that it was still a delightful experience.

John shivered at the jolt raging through him. He swore and Simon, eyes wide, glanced down.

“That’s it, that’s it. John, how quickly can you come? Want to come in your underwear like some horny kid?” Simon laughed.

“Fuck, I.. Charlie, I am a horny kid.” John rasped, “yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“Comin’ in.. Ugh, in my boxers!”

Simon was rutting harder against him now, hands skirting down John’s side. He never touched him, his fingers avoided his crotch.

“Cheeky motherfucker..” John spat, half into Simon’s shoulder.

John was thrusting upwards, a hand hastily undoing his belt. Simon swatted it away.

“Come in your leathers, Johnny. Come for me.”

He was met by a breathless ‘yes’ from John who, thrusted quicker up against Simon. His breaths were short and erratic, his head was lolling back as Simon rode him harder.

Simon was kissing him again, desperate and wet. John was now panting into his mouth and- fuck, was it all over fast.

He clawed at Simon’s ass as he came and came, his thrusts turning to quakes that simmered into jolts. Chuckling, Simon broke away feeling the moist warmth spread between them. He swept away the sweat from John’s forehead and glanced down at John’s heaving chest, his sparkling eyes and his soiled leathers. He couldn’t help but stifle his laughter.

“Fucking hell, Charlie. Fucking.. hell.” He panted as Simon loomed above him. “Christ, I didn’t.. I shouldn’t...”

Simon leant down, lips heading straight for John’s neck.

“I can do better, Charlie.. I will do better.”

Chuckling into his sweaty neck, Simon breathed “Oh, will you now?”

John groped his ass in reply, roughly grinding his hips up. He coaxed Simon deeper, to thrust leather upon leather.

“Yes, Charlie, yes I will do better. Now” John snaked his way down Simon’s shirt, lighting sparks. “Now it’s your turn.”


	31. I Do It All To Have You (Your Body Heat IS The Right Intensity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat is stifling, slick chests and hot tongues running wild. They felt the heat and decided that yes, they can go on: inching closer to finding the right intensity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it, I made it! This challenge has been an absolute blast and the reception has been amazing! I can’t thank you all enough, for the comments and kudos. For egging me on and making me want to write and write. I’ve really enjoyed it: defiling these guys as I have.  
>    
> _And yes, go ahead and hear Johnny’s I Do What I Do as you read. I’ve had this playing for about two hours straight. As much as I hate myself for it, I really can’t get enough of this stupid song. Is it okay to say that I uh.. love it? Because I do. I really fucking do. (I do, I do, I do, I do oh!)_  
>  _Might as well title another fic after it. Yes, another. ___
> 
> _  
> _Also, have a happy new year and all the best for 2020! <3_  
>  _  
> 

**Prompt Day 31:** Whatever pleases you (heh.)

 **Pairing:** Simon/Nick/Andy/John/Roger...

  
_1984_

_The end of the Sing Blue Silver Tour_

They went slowly, maddeningly slowly. Bodies grinding at an unholy pace, coated in the lustful heat. The Taylors were flush up against each other, Roger letting John take him further and further as he relaxed and opened himself up: back arching and lips searching for John’s parted own.

They shared a heated kiss, sparks dancing across both tongues as they touched, stealing breath after breath. John’s strokes were deep, powerful. They only stuttered when he felt Andy thrust himself into his heat, a thrill. Andy ran his slick fingers up John’s back and he squirmed, breaths erratic for a moment, before Andy settled them in John’s hair with a small tug. John’s craned his neck back down so his lips could caress Roger’s neck.

They each sighed deeply, the sound of Andy beginning to keen was delicious. A moan wrenched from deep within him. Roger’s hand had wandered and he pulled Andy in closer, who rocked his hips into Roger’s hot touch.

To the left saw Nick on his knees, beautiful red lips engulfing precious breath after breath. He took more of Simon’s length into his mouth, tongue swirling around every inch, savouring the taste. Simon’s hands were in his hair, blonde locks messy as he helped Nick with his movements: working together, working off of each other’s rhythm.

Roger focused on maintaining his breathing as he felt something special bloom inside, drawing out the pleasure. He felt warm and welcome, being taken care off and falling deeper and deeper in love with the men above him. John’s eyes were wide and his angular jaw slack, he had never looked so beautiful. Andy’s hair was rumpled and eyes his glassy, there was so much heat behind them that no Taylor could deny it. The spark, the flame.

Snaking a deft hand up, Roger ran his fingers all over the delectable curve of John’s spine. He payed close attention, fingertips massaging him with a light touch that had John panting deeper at the sudden contact. Roger began to knead the skin with one hand and his other quickened it’s pace, wrapped around Andy. Roger has truly been blessed with the best coordination, his different rhythms we’re driving them both mad. How Roger could maintain it and keep his focus stunned them both. John was kissing him again, stealing his breath and letting himself falling deeper: moulding himself into Roger’s hot little body. Breaking away, John surveyed him. The drummer’s eyes were dark and coated in love and adoration, a bond that ran deep within the drummer and the bassist: a perfect beat that would have neither man playing out of tune. John let smooth fingers tilt his head and he leaned in to brush Andy’s cut cheek. Feeling another warmth pool in his stomach, John dared to let his lips tease lower, claiming Andy’s mouth in his own.

Nick rose to his feet, smiling broadly upon seeing Simon’s grin. His cheeks were tinted red, his gaze a little cloudy yet his beady blues still shone bright. They were transfixed, hooked to Nick and his movements. Following Nick back down into the plush, Simon caressed his sides with his deft fingers trailing up and down the keyboardist’s back. With a single nod, Simon eased his way in. He massaged Nick, gentle fingers running in smooth and circular motions. He was on all fours beside Andy and John, who looked up to see Nick by his side.

John’s lips were a little chapped, having been bitten. Andy helped Nick work his way over, catching John’s lips in a teasing kiss. Simon stretched him further and John rocked into Roger deeper. Their lips danced a slow kiss, a promise. Another way to solidify the bond they had between them, it could never break. It would surely be decades long.

John shuddered as he and Nick parted, he turned his attention back down to Roger. They were both so close, inching towards those moments of blissful oblivion that meant more to John than any other high. With a nod John withdrew and helped Roger to seated, tugging Andy back up with him.

A dexterous hand plunged lower, a blur as to where one Taylor ended and where another began. John’s huge hand wrapped around both he and Andy, tugging and teasing him in closer so John could pant into his neck. Upon hearing a soft groan from his left, Roger crawled over to Nick and Simon.

Roger’s deft hand caressed Nick’s face before he leant forward, body heat intensifying, to catch Nick’s sweet lips in his own. He was always on time, Roger, in perfect sync as he held the beat. He swallowed Nick’s moans as the keyboardist shook and writhed, being driven mad by the feeling of Simon all around him, stretching and filling him: loving him down the way they both so craved.

Pulling away, Roger crawled to the side and helped Nick to steady himself. Simon’s thrusts were slow but powerful, sending them both rocking forward. Their hips moulded together, Simon and Nick, Nick whining upon feeling Simon’s fingers clasp harder into him.

Both Taylors leant forward, both sets of string beaten fingers grazing over the singer’s tan skin. John angled his head towards him, sending his own tongue dancing its way into Simon’s parted mouth. Drawing back John was panting, an eager hand having dropped down to fist at himself: the strokes were slow, taunting. Andy’s gaze fell back into him and John pulsed within his grasp, jaw dropping open and a raw moan escaped.

Simon’s thrusted deeper, sending jolts straight through Nick as he moaned low, the single syllable cracking. Biting into his lip, Roger sidled back up to meet Nick, slick fingertips massing his shoulder and trailing up his slick sides. With a shiver, Nick ground his head into Roger’s warmth and Roger lined himself up before him, chocolate brown eyes coated in pure desire. Nick inhaled a deep breath and opened wide, letting Roger take the reigns. Within moments he and Simon were perfectly in sync again, slender hips grinding into Nick as he took them on both ends: hands clawing at Roger’s thighs.

John pressed himself up behind Simon, soaked chest flush with his back as he bought two nimble fingers around to Simon’s front. They trailed down, a touch so light that it ripped a moan from the singer as his head tipped back. His hips didn’t stutter, they kept in perfect time with Roger’s movements. John’s hot lips clamped down on his neck, kissing and biting his way down to Simon’s shoulder. Andy’s hands had found his pecs and had begun massaging them, inching closer to his nipple. John fingered one and Andy fingered another; both revelling in Simon’s hiss, a small stutter in his rolling hips. John pressed himself even closer, body heat the right intensity, and thrust himself into Simon’s quivering mess.

Upon feeling the shudder, the stalling of Nick’s tongue, Roger inched himself out of his mouth. Nick was close and so was he, cheeks and pecs flush with it. Trembling with it: the heat. Together Andy and Simon helped ease Nick off of him and let Roger take his place. Simon slipped into him and bent down, lips clashing as he rocked into Roger faster than he had with Nick. They both knew full well that they needed this to last but it wouldn’t. Pulses were soaring and the temperature was rising, far beyond their control. Roger was comfortable to have Simon just take him, spread him and fill him. Lose himself inside him, guide him through it. The singer’s plush lips trailed away, licking and sucking wild at his neck: feeling the surge in Roger’s pulse and his grunts filled the air.

A single look at John and the two were all over each other, hands wandering and both sets of ruby lips locked tight. When John pulled, Nick pushed back and harder: ripping John’s breaths from him. They were growing shaky and John was thrusting into Nick’s hand, sweet curses mingling with Nick’s own raspy breath.

Roger felt Simon’s heat and was just a moment behind. Together their pulses soared riding out a pleasure too intense that it had both men moaning and panting their way through. The white flashing behind Roger’s eyes was blinding but when Simon gripped his hips again, the fog cleared. He clung to his touches, to his care and rode out the pleasure: both doing so to its fullest- ensuring it would last.

Nick was being pushed down, the touch Andy had on him was burning, a spark that was sure to burst into flames within moments. Splaying his lanky body out, John buried his head in the junction of where Nick’s neck met shoulder and rode him, rode him hard. He cocked a leg upwards, moulding Nick into him as together they approached that ecstasy, hips clashing and moans being ripped from each other. A twitch had Nick seeing stars, another twitch and John was right there with him: falling victim to their lust; chests coated in hot fluid. John kept bucking, desperate to milk Nick dry.

Peering over his shoulder, he simply winked: drawing the guitarist into his flame. Head bobbing down and Simon engulfed him, all of him, talented tongue running up and down Andy’s length as he struggled to hold on. There was a pressure at his back, nimble fingers in his hair. Andy didn’t even have to look, fully aware of who had crowded him: sharing the warmth; radiating in his own afterglow.

Itching closer to a scorching release Andy’s hips snapped and rocked deeper into Simon’s mouth. John was kissing him, hot tongues battling for dominance: both short on breath. Pulling away Andy whined, Simon’s dizzying fingers now in place of his tongue. With a crooked finger he beckoned John over to crouch before him, the bassist’s mouth open wide. Within moments Andy groaned, hips thrusting wild into Simon’s grasp: juices raining down on John. He made a little choking sound as John lapped up all that Andy could give him, Simon’s own moans enough encouragement for all three of them.

The five men collapsed into the bedsheets, limbs loose and covered in sweat. Shaky pants pierced at the air, chests were rising and falling far too quick. The air was warm, comforting, riddled with their scent. It was stifling, making each man delirious- already eager for another hot taste of each slender, quivering body. _Some feel the heat and decide that they can’t go on._ There were lazy kisses and hand holding. Hips moulding together as each band member found their spot, their perfect beat and eventually just drifted off, the haze of the afterglow still burning bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the fun of it, I decided to list the pairings in full. I haven’t specified Nick and Andy because reasons ;)
> 
> Roger/John  
> Roger/Andy  
> Andy/John  
> Andy/John/Roger  
> Simon/Nick  
> John/Nick  
> Simon/Nick/Roger  
> Simon/Andy  
> Simon/Andy/John
> 
> I can’t believe I actually went and did this. Part three of this series is another DD fivesome. There will be more of where this came from...


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